


... from the ashes you will rise

by Pattydcm



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:16:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 83,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24291940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pattydcm/pseuds/Pattydcm
Summary: ! WARNING !! YOU MUST KNOW BEFORE YOU BEGIN THE READING!This ff is the continuation of  'Fenix'. I therefore recommend that you read this one. This ff will be from Greg's point of view. From the BBC Sherlock series we know that Greg's marriage is in crisis and here I deepen this aspect. I focused on the confusion that dominates the inspector and that extends to all fields of his life. It is not a mystrade. In reality there is no real couple relationship here. There is the confusion of this man, who collides with different figures: Sherlock, Mycroft, his ex-wife, Donovan, Molly and Moriarty. As we know from the series, Greg's life has been endangered by James's aims on Sherlock. If we know how this threat evolved in John, nothing is known of how Greg took it. Here I wanted to emphasize this too. We are at the end of the first season: Moriarty has revealed himself with his macabre game and told Sherlock that his heart will burn. There will be no meeting with Adler, nor the trip to Baskerville and the jump from Bart's. I hope you enjoy this experiment.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ! WARNING !  
> ! YOU MUST KNOW BEFORE YOU START READING!
> 
> Hello everyone!  
> Here I am again with you to introduce you to another of my ff on the world of Sherlock. I placed this notice at the beginning because what I propose is the continuation of my ff 'Fenix'. I therefore recommend that you read this before tackling what will be a long one story.  
> 'Fenix' has been a painful ff. Many times I wanted to throw it away, but then I managed to complete it and in a way that satisfied me a lot. It also allowed me to take on a new challenge and write a story from Greg's perspective. I love this character that allows me to investigate the psyche of a capable detective in his work, not brilliant like Sherlock. In short, a person more within my reach. From the series we know that Greg's marriage is in crisis and, as already in 'Fenix', this aspect is deepened here. I focused on the confusion that dominates the inspector and that extends to all fields of his life (working, relational and sentimental). It is not a 'mystrade'. In reality there is no real couple here. There is the confusion of this man who collides with different figures: Sherlock, Mycroft, his ex-wife, Donovan, Molly and Moriarty. Yes, Moriarty too. Not only because it is found in 'Fenix', but because, as we know from the series, Greg's life was endangered by the criminal consultant's aims on Sherlock. If we know from the series how this threat evolved into John, nothing is known, however, of how Greg and Mrs. Hudson took it. Here I wanted to emphasize this too.  
> Those who have already read my other ff know that I do not pedestrianly stick to the timeline of the BBC series. I can tell you that we are at the end of the first season: Moriarty has revealed himself with his macabre game and told Sherlock that his heart will burn. We are therefore there. There will be no meeting with Adler, nor a trip to Baskerville and a jump from the Bart's.  
> As for Sherlock's childhood, reported here by Mycroft, I based myself on Meyer's mythical apocryphal story 'Seven percent solution' to which I added mine.  
> I hope you enjoy this experiment. I liked to write about Greg, his family and relationship problems (in this period I am following a couple in an assisted separation, a man who is experiencing a more than conflicting separation and a mother with a rather stormy relationship with the two teenage children ... my job gives me many ideas to write about for the ff!) and I hope you can appreciate my experiment. I needed to talk about others, as well as our main couple (who still dominates the scene, although it is physically absent).  
> Sorry if I went on, but I thought it was necessary to give you this information so that you can choose whether or not to venture into reading.  
> Obviously these characters do not belong to me, but are the property of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and the BBC in the transposition made by Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss. This story was written for no profit, but for the pure pleasure of writing and telling. I will be happy to read your comments and I hope you enjoy the story  
> Enjoy the reading  
> Patty

Chapter 1

Mycroft's secretary doesn't take her eyes off her blackbarry's screen even for a moment. Greg observes her sitting in the exact center of the long seat of this miniature living room which is the passenger compartment of the dark car on which they travel. She has beautiful tanned skin, long dark hair and light eyes. Not bad at all, if it weren't for that cell phone addiction and the air too servile.

Greg turns his gaze to Mycroft Holmes, sitting like him on the seat opposite the one hosting the girl. The most powerful man in England contemplates the world running fast beyond the window. Impeccable in his double breast, despite the humid heat of these days, as pale as his brother and with an expression so motionless that it gives the feeling of having to deal with a statue. A stark contrast to Sherlock, on whose face the eyes are constantly moving, as well as the eyebrows, which stretch, arch skeptical or arrogant. The consultant's mouth moves very fast when he explains to the common and foolish mortals how he got to his deductions, or curves to draw expressions of disgust and sufficiency. Greg has rarely seen Sherlock smile. Much more often, he must admit, since John entered his life.

Beyond those sneers of flattery or circumstance, the detective does not believe that Mycroft has ever smiled in his life. That he has ever do any type of muscle movement, other than leaning on his umbrella. Better yet, sitting in his armchair giving orders marking the fate of humanity.

"Jesus, what am I doing here?" Greg wonders. How could he, the simple chief inspector of Scotland Yard, get to receive a ride from such an illustrious and ... yes, dangerous person.

<< That man gives me chills >> said his ex-wife, shortly after the Holmes, John and Fox left her home, headed for the Diogenes Club. << He really will eliminate every single compromising photo of Liz that those people have put in network? >> she had asked, skeptically.

<< Yes. He can do it definitively, not only from the network, but from the private files of anyone who has downloaded them >> he replied, blessing the existence of this man.

The speech Mycroft made to his wife hit Greg in the stomach. He too, like her, has abandoned his children. He didn't insist and fight for them, incredulous and won over by what was falling on him. He and Margaret are lucky that Elisabeth is still with them. Doubly lucky, if he also take into account the miraculous timing with which Sherlock decided to put Fox on the trail of his daughter. A half hour of difference would have been enough. Even just a quarter of an hour and ... but Greg doesn't want to think about it, not now at least.

Greg put the discussion with Margaret on standby. He saw her exhausted by the words of the ice man, overcome by a sense of guilt. He does not like to feel indebted to Mycroft for the favor he has done in eradicating that perennial look of disgust, pity and challenge, from the face of his ex-wife, even if it is only for half a day.

Margaret remained silent and did not open her mouth to argue even one of the decisions made by Greg before he flew to the Diogenes Club to reach the Holmes, John and Fox. She kept her eyes down, her hands clasped into each other, that same gesture of embarrassment that made Greg's heart beat so much the first time they had met for an official date. He had found her beautiful and realized she was not just an adventure. That girl, just a couple of years younger than he, had stolen his heart. Greg still wonders how she can be the same one that, in a year, that same heart has broken him a bit at a time in a sadistic way, as his lawyer says.

The first five years of marriage have been pleasant, full of love and complicity. Or so it was for him and he hopes it was for her too. Margaret has told him so many bad things, that Greg no longer knows what is true and what is not, what he has not seen or what he has not wanted to see.

Greg remember the big party for his promotion to chief inspector. He worked hard to achieve this goal and Margaret supported him on the journey. Many times in her arms he found the strength to go on. Only in those arms could he want to celebrate the victory, their victory. And he spent many hours of sweet passion there, some as drunk, others sober, taking advantage of the absence of children, strategically sent by maternal grandparents.

Then something broke. Greg doesn't know when. Perhaps in that first year after the promotion, the most difficult. The pressure from the superiors, the envy of colleagues who, like him, were vying for that place have been very strong. Absences from home have become more frequent. The hours spent in his office getting longer and longer. Maybe that was where it started.

<< You forget too often to have a family. To be exact, a wife and two children! You live as if you were married to your job instead that with me >> Margaret said to him in that first, historic quarrel. Greg was blown away by his words. He has repeatedly asked himself where the woman who continued to say undaunted "Everyone must pursue their dream" had gone? Or the one that said "I won't be the one that will cut you the wings" when he apologized and asked her to be patience, feeling guilty about a refresher course that would take him away from home for a couple of days , or an investigation that had gone on longer than necessary.

From there a slow departure from her began. Greg must admit that he didn't take care of it right away, taken as he was from the new job. He tried to put some patches in them, which, however, they didn't keep.

At the end of that hellish year, Greg met the person who raised him from countless messes. The man thanks to which he has collected a long series of awards in these five years. Since then the quarrels between him and Margaret have increased, the distance from his wife also and he has taken to spend more time in the office, only to not have to go back to the tense atmosphere of his home.

The affection with which his children welcomed him every time that he come back home, was not enough to lighten that heavy air of judgments, nor the pleasantness, although he was tired, of being with them. He regrets this, in the face of what has surfaced today. Elisabet, after all, is right: Margaret knew who she was marrying. She knew what the career Greg wanted to undertake, the same one that allowed her and their children to live more than dignified in all these years.

<< Here we are, Inspector >> Mycroft says to him, recalling him from his thoughts. Greg opens the door, gets out of the car and is stunned to see Mycroft's secretary get out with him, go around the car and open the door to her boss. Greg looks around embarrassed by that scene, although it does not concern him. He could never be served like this.

Mycroft waits for him on the sidewalk and Greg moves quickly to his side. He is so different from his brother, who now enters and exits Scotland Yard without having problems of any kind. To tell the truth, it was never be a problems for Sherlock. Ever since that first time almost six years ago.

Greg had been chief inspector since a year and despite the many difficulties he had collected successes. The case on which he was banging his head in that cold winter had been presented to him as important. Not so much for the strangeness itself, but for the victim. The woman found dead of hypothermia in a sauna was the cousin of a well-known politician of that period. One of that kind of person that it's better to not have as an enemy

Greg could not get anything out of the evidence. The coroner was sure that the woman was dead by ipothermia and no one could explain how she ended up in that sauna. For many days the detective had gone back and forth from that super luxury gym. One evening he returned to the police station, exhausted from the cold and unnerved by the uselessness of that umpteenth false track. He had called Donovan and Anderson to him and his screams echoed from his office. When Greg had sent them away he had been leaning against the door, rubbing his tired face with his hands.

<< Her fingers are covered with small sores, didn't her? >>.

Greg was startled by that deep, unexpectedly close voice. He had looked up and had met eyes of a particular and indefinable color, surrounded by deep dark circles, which studied him severely. These eyes stood out on the cerulean face surrounded by the black, curly and long hair of a boy whom Greg would not have given more than 25 years. On the body, far too thin, there were all the clear signs of drug addiction. Cocaine mainly, but Greg wouldn't be surprised if the boy used to add other cocktails along with that, just to get a little more high. He wore not so worn clothes, but surely he had been wearing them for too long. Just as it must have been a lot of time since the last time he took a shower

Thus began their collaboration. With an agreement reached after that Greg being stunned by the boy's words, all too precise and punctual, which gave possible explanations on what had happened to the woman.

<< I will help you solve this very interesting case and you, in return, you will make sure that I will not arrested for possession of narcotic substances >> he had proposed, keeping him under the fire of those watchful eyes, so strange to find in the face of a junkie. Greg had accepted. God, if he accepted. It was crazy. Everything was crazy: the boy, his way of thinking, the case that unfolded just as he had described and expected, the capture of the murderer, the honors of the limelight.

<< Take you all the credit. I don't need it. I do not do what I do neither for money, nor for glory >> he had said when Greg had confessed to feeling guilty for being recognized as worthy of the resolution of the case, while, instead, he had only followed his instructions.

<< Why do you do it? >> Greg asked in amazement. That boy was dependent on that shit that injected himself into his veins and would have the possibility to have earned a lot of money by exploiting this gift of his.

<< I decided to make this profession because the wicked are punished and justice is done >>.

<< Which profession? >> Greg asked amazed, even sketching a smile, thinking he was raving.

<< I am a consulting detective >> he had replied, resolute and convinced. << Currently, I must admit, I have no other clients than you, inspector >>.

Greg hadn't liked being called a 'client' at all. Too ambiguous and potentially compromising claim.

Embarrassed by the not wanting anything in return of the boy, Greg had insisted on offering him at least lunch. Greg had seen the boy eat greedily, as if he had been fasting for days.

<< To be exact since the body was found. Digestion slows me down >> the boy had explained and Greg, astonished, passing him his sandwich too.

Greg discovered that the same thing holds true for sleep. He had seen the boy swoop as though he had died on the seat of his car, as they reached the shabby place of junkies where he said he lived. When Greg woke him up, the boy staggered out of the car and Greg hadn't been able to leave him there.

<< Don't you have a real home? >> he had shouted at him from the window of the car. The boy had stopped, his face tired and swollen with sleep.

<< It has a roof and four walls >> he had said, pointing to the dilapidated building.

<< The sofa in my house is not very comfortable, but it is certainly better. Hop on >>.

<< Are you sure? >>.

<< I owe you an extra bonus in this month's salary. Bring your ass here and don't make a fuss! >>.

The boy scratched his head hesitantly and finally shruged and went back to the car.

<< You haven't told me your name yet >>.

<< You didn't ask me >>.

<< In fact we didn't even introduce ourselves. I'm Greg Lestrade >> he had said holding out his hand for the first time.

<< I know who you are >> the boy retorted, looking strangely at that outstretched hand, before shaking it firmly. << Sherlock >>.

<< Sherlock and then? >>.

<< Only Sherlock >> he had specified decided. Of course, with such an uncommon name, finding information about him would not have been difficult. Always assuming it was a real name. What Greg didn't expect was that the informations would find him.

<< Inspector, you must sign the report >>.

Lestrade shakes his head, looking in amazement at agent Jordan, who has been in force for a few months in his team, who hands him the pen. He grabs it and mutters something indefinite, while he gives a quick reading of what Mycroft has declared. Greg scribbles a signature at the bottom and returns it to the agent.

Holmes gets up from the chair on which he had been made to sit.

<< It was a really interesting experience >> he says looking around, as if he had just finished a particularly exciting excursion. Mycroft holds out his pale, thin hand and Greg takes a moment before shaking it with his, much darker and larger. Greg expected to feel it cold, like Sherlock's, while Mycroft's hand is pleasantly warm and dry.

<< Thank you again for allowing Fox and his team to access government mainframes and eradicate that damned portal >>.

<< As I said, I am indebted to you, Lestrade >>.

<< Well, I would say that now we are equal >>.

Mycroft's thin lips curl into a strange smile. He shakes his head as he tightens his grip on Greg's hand, not at all intending to let it go.

<< My battle has perhaps stopped. Yours, however, is still in progress >> he says seriously. << I can still do a lot for you. Your ex-wife is a tough nut to crack. In case you need it, don't hesitate to contact me >> Mycroft says, handing him his business card. A simple rectangle of cardboard on which his surname, name and telephone number are shown in golden words. Nothing else.

Mycroft leaves his hand and Greg is unable to say anything, or to respond to his greeting, which he perceives sincere. Greg watches him go away, move stiffly and haughty with slow pace, among the rest of the people who run and walk crooked and quickly. So different, like he came from another planet. So far from everyone.

"Yet he touched me," Greg thinks, looking at his right hand on which he still feels a hint of Mycroft's grasp.

<< Hey, boss, is that man the brother of the freak? >> Sally approaches him. << There isn't a normal one in that family >> the woman chuckles, shaking her head. An outburst of anger shakes Greg's limbs.

<< That man and his brother just saved my daughter's life, Donovan! >> Greg exclaims furiously. << I forbid you to speak ill of them, clear? >>.

The woman is amazed both by what he told her and by the way he did it. She just nods and walks away, without adding anything else.

Greg checks his watch and realizes that it is better to go to the chief commissioner immediately if he wants to be on time for the conversation that he hopes will be peaceful with his ex-wife.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Greg had left his ex-wife and children and told them that they should all talk together about what had happened and proposed to do it that same evening over a pizza. They had always managed to reason well in front of a pizza. He did not know if the miracle would repeat itself even in these new circumstances and in fact the thing is not going well.

The detective observes what a part of himself still believes to be his family. He realizes that sitting around the table there are four human beings each closed in their own silence. Their eyes are down on pizzas that are now cold and barely consumed, which will end up in the fridge and, the next day, from there in the waste bin.

Margaret, who had left submissive and full of guilt, seems to have returned to war perhaps even more than before. Margaret feels her children be hostile towards her and this does not help her mood. Greg realizes that he is too tired to endure a mother-daughter quarrel like the one that happened in the afternoon.

<< Dad >> Elisabeth takes the floor, in a tone that doesn't bode well. << I want to come and live with you. I am 16 years old and by law I can choose who to be with[1] >>.

George looks upset at his sister. Greg sees despair painted on his face at the idea of having to be alone with his mother. It would be unfair. Very unfair to both of us. Both for Elisabeth to receive a refusal and for George to see his sister's request accepted. Apparently being a parent means finding yourself perpetually in the role of King Solomon[2]. The latter, however, had not pointed over himself the eyes of a third mother on top of the two who fought for the baby.

Margaret's eyes are furious. She looks at her daughter with the same hatred she has reserved for him this year. Greg, however, has learned to know her and knows that she will pour this hatred on him, which will only lead Elisabeth to rage even further and from there to hell it will be a short step.

<< Lizzy, darling, I'm happy you want to be with me. I believe, however, that it is not a great idea >>.

<< Why not? >> she asks, her voice broken by tears. Greg's heart loses another piece. He feels it indistinctly detach and fall.

<< Because I'm never at home and then because it doesn't seem right to leave your brother alone >>.

Elisabeth seems to realize only at this moment how George, still young, could not follow her. Greg wanted everything except to make her feel guilty for that moment of selfishness, but sometimes the teaching also goes through pain.

<< Can't you make an exception? Can't he also come with me to you? >> asks the girl

<< Honey, the judge has made agreements >> Margaret intrudes calmly, taking the floor after a long time.

<< These agreements are unfair! They are similar to those who have been established against my partner Sophie's father, except that he is an alcoholic with the bad habit of sending Sophie and her mother almost weekly to the hospital! >>.

Greg shivers as he thinks about how he always drinks too many beers lately. If his children opened the fridge of the apartment in which he settled down, they would find it empty of food and full of beers. He doesn't like it at all. Rather than hits on his children and his ex-wife, he would hits himself. Of course Margaret would deserve them, but Greg could never. He could never have hit that face he loved so much and still loves.

<< Mom >> says George, turning his gaze to the mother, that he has ignored all this time. << Mom, please. Don't you think it is an exaggeration that we can only stay with Dad for two days in the second week of the month, established on the basis of our commitments and imposed on him? He's not a criminal. He puts criminals in jail. Have you seen what he did today? >>.

<< I saw what happened today, George, but the sentence was issued and change it would still lead to long times and a lot of unnecessary bureaucracy >>.

<< Unnecessary ! >> Elisabeth says. << In your opinion, for us to see our father is less important than useless bureaucracy? >>.

<< Lizzy, please! >> exclaims Greg. << Can we argue civilly without raising our voice, please? >>.

<< If it were a civil discussion, yes we could do it, but here there is nothing civilized! >> she shouts in a voice broken by tears.

<< Maybe you don't realize it, Elisabeth, but I think that forcing you to move from one side to the other every week, changing your habits and your rhythms cannot be good for you >> says Margaret, still trying to keep calm.

<< And you don't realize that, given what happened, Dad did you a great favor not to say yes to my proposal. He just wanted to protect George, to avoid that he too started making crazy things finding himself alone with you >>.

<< You draw me like a monster, Elisabeth! >>.

<< Well, at least you can try what you made dad live for a year >>.

<< Elisabeth, please stop! >> Greg asks her resolutely and the girl is silent. << I thank you for the warmth with which you defend me. I don't want, however, to see you fighting because of me and then I don't think that taking my part anyway can help me and your mother to communicate >> he says, turning his gaze to Margaret, who not support him in his attempt to resume the situation for the hair. << Besides, it is really not so easy to change a sentence just issued >>.

<< What if you ask Sherlock's brother? >> asks George

Greg is speechless. He feels the weight of the business card given by Mycroft to contact him for a similar situation. Almost as if he had foreseen it.

<< Yes, dad! >> exclaims Elisabeth. << That man is powerful enough to have government mainframe passwords. It won't take long to change a judge's decision for him! >>.

<< We just want to be able to have alternance weekends, like many in our companions >> adds George.

<< Yes, we are willing to do back and forth more often >> says Elisabeth. << It would be our effort and we are willing to do it. I don't see why we can't be allowed! >>.

Greg looks at Margaret, who glares at him with her brown eyes. Mycroft has had a very special effect on her, to the point of making her, now, fall prey to terror. The detective realizes that if they continues that topic, his ex-wife will explode and he do not want it to happen. Not in front of their sons, who has already gone through too many for today.

<< Guys, I don't agree. I know it could be useful, but I don't want to act against the law. This is not what I want to teach you. At the moment I feel like telling you that your mother and I will speak again and this time civilly to find what is best for you >>.

<< Why don't you take our decisions into consideration! You always say that you do it for our own good, but there is no good of our own here! >> shouts Elisabeth, who gets up and goes to her room. George is silent.

<< Dad please think about it >> he says and then follow his sister.

Greg rests his elbows on the table and takes his head in his hands. It seems that nothing can be achieved. The more he tries to solve this case the more complicated it is and even Sherlock could not help him.

<< Do you consider asking your little friend's brother help? >> Margaret asks him with his not so conciliatory tone. Greg does not understand and can not stand the scornful smile on her lips .

<< Margaret, let's clear up two points >> he says exasperated. << The first is that Sherlock is not my 'little friend'. He is a consulting detective to whom I turn when the cases I find in my hands turn out to be too complex. The second is that I do not usually resort to illegal means to achieve my goals. This is not the example I want to give to my children and it would clash completely with my role as inspector. But I don't want to discuss it in the presence of our children. It seems to me that they have live too many things through today and we too >> he says, raising his hand to stop her replying. It is so difficulto to Greg to let go that 'we'. It hurts him so much to realize how difficult it is to accept the idea that Margart no longer wants him in her life. The furious look with which she looks at him, stifling the impetus to give him against, hurts him so much.

<< Maggie ... I really don't understand ... why are you so mad at me? >> he asks her, exhausted.

<< Do you ask me 'why'? >> she retorts, trying to keep the tones low.

<< If it's for my work ... I can commit myself to be more present. I did it when you told me I spent more time outside than at home, do you remember? I even spent all the weekends here with you and I don't understand why it didn't go well >>.

<< Don't you understand? Sure, how can you? >>.

<< Explain me then, please! >> Greg realizes to beg her. Margaret takes a deep breath and gives him a look that seems to say 'Okay, you wanted it!'.

<< Before, you always came to me. You asked me for support, and help. Sometimes even advice about cases. You told me about them in the evening before going to sleep or in the morning before running away to work. Then came the consulting detective >>, she says placing a derogatory emphasis on that title, << and I literally stopped existing! >>.

Greg can't believe his ears. Finding the words to retort is difficult and when he finds them he realizes that his throat is dry. Margaret crying. He only saw her cry at the beginning of this whole story, during the first quarrels. Now, talking to him about the consulting detective, the angry fair who has become the shy and sweet woman he married, cries.

<< When you brought him here, that winter night, I said to myself that I had a fantastic husband, who does not hold back in running to help a desperate boy. How stupid I have been! >> she chuckles with sadness. << I allowed that junkie to come into my house and take my husband away one case at a time! >>.

<< What the hell are you saying? >> he blurts out in amazement.

<< Yes, Greg, I thought it seriously! From the way every time you immediately ran away from here, when he was looking for you to update you on a case. From the admired expression with which you spoke about him to our children. Lord, even George thought of going to him first >>.

<< And I would say that he did well, since, otherwise, his sister would have died >>.

<< This is not the point, Gregory! >> she raises her voice, stopping immediately to restore her demeanor. << You have totally excluded me from the moment he arrived. My opinion was suddenly no longer useful or necessary. You put me aside, Greg >>.

Greg feels a great amazement at those words and the painful way in which they are expressed. He can't believe this could be the real reason behind their divorce. It is easier than this to accept the blamed that Greg gives to himself for being absent, absence that has led Margaret to seek attention elsewhere.

<< I was not my intention, Maggie >> he says, trying to take her hand. She moves away her hand with an angry gesture. << Why do you just tell me now? >>.

<< Because I didn't know what to think, Greg! >> she answers, standing up. Margaret moves away from him, going to the opposite side of the kitchen. << If you had had a lover, it would have been an equal war, at least. But no, you have a ... consulting detective! How could I compete with such a man, can you explain it to me? And how could I talk to you about ... these things without you looking at me as you are doing now, thinking that I am crazy for the idea that my husband might have fallen in love with a man! >> she says, bringing her hand to her mouth immediately, as if she had uttered the most atrocious of blasphemies.

Greg can't think. He has stopped breathing, moving and he feels his body heavy. A whistle explodes in his ears, like the siren of a patrol car. He cannot imagine that what she said to him corresponds to what she really thinks. Of course, however, he now manages to explain many things.

<< Is that why you did everything to take the children away from me? >> Greg asks and she looks up to meet his eyes. << Did you fear that their father had become gay and you didn't want that they had anything to do with him? >>.

<< It isn't like that, Greg? >> she asks him, by answering him with that question.

<< Of course it's not like that, Maggie! >> Greg exclaims in amazement, rising in turn. << Since I met you I have had only you. I had the chance to betray you with other women, but I did not want to >> he admits. << Even now >> sighs. << Even now I can not ... >> he says, passing his hand through his hair. << And not because I have lost interest in women, but because I ... it's just you I want >>.

Margaret shakes her head and tears streak her face. She brings her hands to her temples and presses them hard, squinting.

<< Maggie, I ... I do not ask you to solve it and get back together because ... well, I know you have another man and ... but if there was even a chance, Lord, please take it into consideration! If the breakdown of our family depends on this misunderstanding ... >>.

<< It's not just a misunderstandin, Greg! >>.

<< So what is it, Mag? >> he asks loudly. << There has never been anything between me and Sherlock, except a collaboration for the resolution of complex cases. Lord, it makes me strange to even say it! >> he blurts, passing his hands through his hair. << How the fuck can you really think that, you who know me! I don't even think that someone like him is interested in something as human and banal as sex >>.

<< Oh, please Greg! >> Margaret exclaims, rolling his eyes. << Haven't you seen how he looks at the other one? >>.

<< Are you talking about John? >> asks surprised and she nods. << I ... I don't know, Mag. Rumors are circulating about them, but they are only rumors. John passes from one woman to another as if they were cherries. In any case, this should give you the proof that if Sherlock were to be interested in a man, that man is not me. Neither now, nor in the past and, Lord, please don't tell me you might think it's a one-way crush on my part >>. The woman looks away and Greg's arms drop. He takes to measure the room with great nervous steps. << You are telling me that for almost six years you thought that I had taken a crush on a man! Six years, Jesus, and you're telling me only now! Do you realize how many things we could solve if we had talked about it before? >> he says between his teeth, planting himself in front of her. << I take my share of responsibility. I am ready to admit that I have sought you less to ask you for advice. That I have exaggerated in talking about Sherlock and that I have spent too much time outside, but I do not accept to see me take away my sons, to know that my time with them is reduced to the bone, because you are sure that I have 'changed point of view' >> he says, underlining the last words. << Let's review these agreements, please. You have no idea how fucking I miss you! >> Greg says and a sob chokes his throat. << I can also accept the idea of having lost you and regret it for a lifetime, but please do not take me the children off, Maggie >>.

Although Greg had done everything to stop himself, the tears come down to mark his bristly cheeks with a beard that hasn't been cut for too long. Greg hadn't cried yet. Despite everything, he had managed to keep the tears in their place. Finding out what Margaret thinks, have broken the banks. He can not prove anything except the desire to explode and then collapse in a corner to hope to recover.

Margaret stays away from him. She hesitating between going towards him and staying still in her place. She decides not to move, and that missed embrace hurts Greg even more than all the bad things received in the last year. He is used to licking his wounds himself. To fall and get up on its own. In these years spent with Margaret, he thought he had found someone he could rely on, but the illusion has completely broken now. Greg can't even feel anger at Sherlock. Why should he? What fault would the consultant have, if not that of having helped him so much that he got everything he always wanted on the job.

<< It is better that I go, now >> Greg says, wiping away the tears from his face. He retrieves his jacket and moves towards the door, feeling his limbs heavy and tired.

He has no time to go down the stairs and leave the house when the phone rings. Donovan. Greg rolls his eyes and has almost half an idea of pretending not to hear. It is, however, stronger than him, damn it.

<< Sally, what's going on? >> he asks tired.

<< Chief, I'm sorry to disturb you, but a shooting was reported to us at Pall Mall >>.

<< The Jackson? >> he asks and his stomach closes.

<< Yes. A shooting during a discussion. Mr Jackson has death and his wife is dying >>.

<< Murder - suicide? >>.

<< To be verified, but apparently everything leads to that. I fear they did not handle the suicide of the daughter >>.

<< Yeah >> sighs Greg. He immediately thinks of what would have happened if Elisabeth had succeeded in her intentions. Would he also end up like Alfred Jackson? Or the opposite would have happened: Greg that kill his ex-wife and then blow his brains out? Greg shakes his head quickly, chasing away those terrible thoughts.

<< I'll join you. Give me time to get there >> he says and ends the conversation.

Greg gets into the car and heads to Pall Mall. It should be able to be there in less than twenty minutes, given the time and traffic. However, it is difficult for him to concentrate on driving. At the last moment, he finds himself aware of a red traffic light at which to stop, of a priority to be given, of a stop to be respected. He is too distracted by what Margaret told him. He still can't believe it. His wife, the woman who more than anyone knows him intimately, for a long time as six years thinks that he is not only attracted, but even in love with a man. He squeezes the steering wheel tightly in his hands and a nervous laugh escapes his lips. The only thing he can admit he did was to think how could a boy brilliantly intelligent and above average, but also objectively beautiful, reduce himself to the conditions in which Sherlock was when he met him. An objective thought. He does not think there is anything wrong if a man recognizes the beauty of another man, as well as recognizing his skill and intelligence.

"Going beyond this would be impossible for m ..."

Greg nails in the middle of the road, fortunately deserted, of the neighborhood he is going through. He stand still, the steering wheel held in your hands to fix an unspecified point in front of you.

<< Oh, Jesus! >> exclaims and a shiver crosses his back. He leans back against the car seat and brings his hands to his face.

Greg was 23 years old. He was elated at having successfully completed the two years of the university course in forensic and criminal sciences. He had passed the exam and had been proclaimed police officer in charge of the homicide team. Greg and Jonathan were in seventh heaven. They had met on the first day of college and had become inseparable. They had decided to participate in the party that one of their companions, whose name he does not even remember, had organized at his home. It was warm in that home, too warm, much more than there was outside. When the hour was late, the atmosphere warmed even more, leading many to take off shirts and vests. It was a bedlam of men with bare chests and women in bra.

Greg had drunk a lot and he was not used to it. Having always been a sportsman he used alcohol sparingly and then he was afraid of being thrown out of the course for suspected use of alcohol. He didn't even know what cigarettes tasted then.

That evening Greg had filled up on everything. Alcohol, cigarettes and even some joint. He only has flashes of memories about that night. He is seen himself standing on a table, dressed only in jeans, singing some rock song out loud. Jonathan hung behind him, shouting with him and everyone else.

Greg remember that Jonathan and he had decided to walk home. Greg had taken a room in an apartment in the Whitechapel neighborhood, the one he had found cheaper and within reach of his meager finances. And then, a future Scotland Yard detective, in his opinion, in London could only live in the same neighborhood where Jack the Ripper had operated. Except that he never got to his room.

Jonathan, who lived closer but in the same direction, invited Greg to come up to him. Throughout the party Johathan had talked to him about Simcity, the latest video game he had purchased, and he insisted on trying it out. Many times, during rainy and boring afternoons in which they were both free from study and training, Greg found himself at Jonathan's house, to playing Super Mario Bros, 'The Legend of Zelda' or Tetris. Sometimes just the two of them, sometimes with other friends and every afternoon it became a challenge to those who scored the most points. In those two years they had even organized real tournaments in Jonathan's studio apartment.

Greg remembers the big screen that his friend boasted of having bought by putting aside money for an entire year. The video game that starts, the compelling but complicated plot to follow for a mind clouded by alcohol and all the other things. Laughter suffocated to not bother the landlady. Shoving on the broken sofa and then ...

<< Oh God >> he whispers, still standing in the middle of the street. The noise of the engine to create a monotonous background.

A joke from Jonathan. Greg that laugh like crazy. The other that try to cover Greg's mouth with the hand, climbing astride him. Greg blocks those hands, by holding them by his wrists.

<< Lestrade, stop laughing or I'll have to find another way to shut your mouth >> Jonathan says, laughing in turn.

<< What other way, Parker? >> retorts him and, Jesus, if now this joke doesn't sound mischievous.

Jonathan had no problem getting close to his face and closing Greg's mouth with his own. Even for Greg it hadn't been a problem to accept that kiss and then all the others and the frantic rubbing of their sweaty bodies and the bites and laughter and nails to scratch the skin.

<< Oh my God >> Greg repeats, realizing how, thanks also to the too much alcohol drunk and cannabis, he had completely forgotten about that night. The next day they woke up one on the sofa and the other on the floor, both wearing only pants. It hadn't occurred to him in the least, however, the possibility that they had ... done things. He had a terrible migraine and the most important thing had been reaching the bathroom to avoid vomiting on the carpet, who then would have felt the landlady?

The friendship with Jonathan had continued as always. They had never returned to that night. Greg because he did not remember it, Jonathan ... Greg would not be able to say. Jonathan had not changed his attitude towards him. He had become neither more pressing nor less present. The usual Jo, the one who if he want to hug friends did it, without asking himself too many problems. He moved to Scotland after five years and married a local girl and they had twins who are now ten years old. Every now and then they still see each other in returnees.

<< This does not mean anything. We were drunk and drugs. And then it never happened again. Neither with him, nor with anyone else >> Greg says, continuing to tighten the steering wheel. He feels short of breath and his skin is shivering. << It is an experience like many others. Like making a joint or getting drunk >> he continues, trying to get Margaret's disgusted look out of his mind.

A car honks its horn before darting by his side, reminding him that he has been standing in the middle of the road for perhaps a little too long and Donovan is waiting for him from the Jackson. Greg sets off again, but is less attentive than before. Jonathan's laughter and his euphoric face continually overlap with Margaret's one full of judgment and contempt.

[1] Italian law allows the children of divorced parents to choose who to live with from the age of 14. For England I don't know how it works, I didn't have time to check. So I based myself on italian laws.

[2] According to the Bible, Solomon was the third king of Israel. Known for his wisdom, the story told that to establish who was the real mother of a child, disputed by two women, proposed them to cut him in half. One of the women accepted, the other sayd that she was not actually the mother. Solomon understood from this that the real mother of the child was precisely the woman who, for the baby sake, had refused to have him split in half in order to have a part for herself.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The living room is flooded with blood. As if all Rosaline's blood poured on the carpet of her bedroom wasn't enough. Alfred Jackson's body lies on his back. Killed by a gunshot in the chest. The woman had an excellent aim. Who knows if her hand has been moved by desperation, anger or experience. Greg feels she has discarded the last hypothesis. Mrs Jackson did not seem to be the type of person to have a double life as a Russian spy or serial killer. The first two hypothesis, however, are much more likely.

The detective observes the scene following the tags placed by the guys of the scientific department. Apparently the woman was standing on the carpet where her footprints are visible. From there it seems she shot her husband and then herself. Just two shots. No more bullets were found in the house, nor in the drum of the weapon.

"It's strange," Greg thinks, scratching his bristly chin. He looks around, ignoring what Sally is saying to him. There is something that does not come back to him.

"You look but you don't observe" Sherlock tells him constantly. And Greg always tries to observe, when he is at a crime scene.

<< ... so I believe that at least this case can be said to be solved by itself. The murderer is already in hospital and if she spends the night she will spend the rest of her life in jail >>.

Yes, if he keeps pretending to listen to Sally and his carineries it's better. Greg approaches the window overlooking the garden. There don't seem to be any footprints that would suggest that someone broke in and forced the woman to shoot her husband first and then herself. Since the spouses are both knockouts, one cannot even understand whether something has been stolen. Nothing that is not striking, at least. The safe behind the strategic picture is closed and the woman's jewels are clearly visible in the jewelry box in the bedroom. No. It has all the air of being what it really looks like.

"It is useless for me to try to find something to avoid thinking that it could have ended up with me too!" Greg thinks. The feeling that something is wrong, howhever, does not give up.

<< Sally, does take away the corpse and, after completing the surveys, send everyone home. I go before you. Sorry but it was a very long day >>.

<< Sure, chief >> Sally tells him without adding anything else. Greg must have a very bad wax if it takes so little to plug Sally's mouth.

Greg go back to driving with his head full of the crime scene. All that blood. All that desperation still stagnant in the air in that now empty house.

Greg felt hilself like dying when Elisabeth confessed how she thought of ending her life, by jumping from the library balcony. Another heavy blow was to finding out, thanks to Mycroft's inferences, she had already seriously tried to kill herself a couple of months earlier. When the divorce decree had been issued. Lord, how close they went to kill their beautiful daughter.

"And all because of you!" Margaret shouts in his head. Now Greg sees that guilt clear. The times when instead of going home he ran to join Sherlock wherever he was. When he left lunches and dinners for the same reason or got up in the middle of the night saying 'Sherlock has updates on the case, I have to go', while he dressing, and then run away. Of course, Margaret made a questionable association of ideas and did not present these thoughts to him, but Greg did nothing to stem the officiousness of the consulting detective.

"Jesus, it's the third woman that plants me because of him!"

John words, that he said on one of their Friday at the pub, come to help Margaret's words. Even the doctor has repeatedly blamed the consultant for being the cause of the failure of his relationships, to the point of confiding to him that he understood that, working with him, he cannot afford to attend women with the intent to engage in a serious relationship.

It's really Sherlock, however, the problem? Or are rather they who struggling to admit how exciting is to follow him in his cases, in his intricate reasonings, to see him pull out clues and connections to things that no one else had seen? They who can't stand back, that can't say 'No, listen, I've had enough, this time I don't want tp take part of your business'?

Why both Greg and John fail to do like everyone else, that load Sherlock of bad words and then drive him away or get away from him? Perhaps the rumors circulating about the relationship between the consultant and the doctor may also be true and John may be unable to move Sherlock away because he is involved in an attraction that goes beyond the mental one and a stronger feeling of friendship. But what about Greg? What allows him to have patience, to go beyond the instinct who constantly pushes others to treat Sherlock badly and to push him away?

"It's not the first time I've told you how I think Sherlock considers you a much better older brother than me."

Greg takes a curve too fast and finds himself having to dodge a car that reaches the opposite direction. The wheels whistling, but he can't counter-steer and ends up against a lamppost. The airbag explodes in his face and that slap brings him heavily back to reality. Greg shakes his head dazed, giving himself an idiot.

<< Hey, are you all right? >> through the window car Greg can see the face of a man.

<< Yes, I'm sorry, I was lost in thought and I took bad the curve >>.

<< And in full the lamppost >> underlines the man, helping him to open the door. << Do you want me to call an ambulance? >> the man asks obsequiously, how he used to receive orders in his life.

<< A tow truck would be better >> Greg snorts, looking at the way he has reduced the car. The chief commissioner will scold him worse than his father would.

<< Are you sure you don't also need an ambulance? >> insists the man and Greg remembers that he hasn't really a nice wax in this last days.

<< No, really. What I need is a cigarette and a beer. Indeed, a whiskey, also double! >> Greg says, rubbing his face with his hands.

<< I don't think you are allowed to drink on duty, Inspector Lestrade >>.

Greg can't believe his ears. He raises his eyes and turns slowly towards the starched and impeccable figure of Mycroft Holmes. The same man whose voice echoed in his head before the car accident. Look at what a coincidence.

"The universe is rarely so lazy" the other Holmes' voice arrives immediately to mess up his thoughts. Greg pushes it away, shaking his head.

<< Actually I was finally going home >> he says with a note of annoyance in his voice. << Instead, what are you doing around here? >>.

<< I live here >> Mycroft replies, sketching that sardonic smile that Greg just can not stand. He didn't know Mycroft lived in Pall Mall, but, after all, where else could someone like him live if not there? << I don't have beer or whiskey, but if you want I can offer you a brandy >>.

Greg rolls his eyes. Is Mycroft Holmes inviting him to his definitely luxurious home for a brandy?

<< Hugh, take care of the inspector's car and then come back. I think we can walk for the remaining meters. Do you want to follow me? >>.

Greg doesn't feel like it. He just wants to be able to get home, open the fridge, have a nice cold beer, drain it in a few sips and throw himself on the bed. Yet he can't say no. The blow to the head he took must have been pretty strong, since he is following Sherlock's older brother like a dog and without objecting. The true brother of Sherlock. The one with the same genetic makeup and the same intelligence.

<< Is it really a murder - suicide? >> Mycroft asks, stealing Greg from his thoughts.

<< What? >>.

<< That of the Jackson. That's why you are here, isn't you? >>.

<< How the hell do you know? >> Greh asks, stopping his steps. Mycroft chuckles, turning slowly towards him.

<< I know what is happening on the other side of the world in real time and you don't want me to be aware of what disturbs the tranquility of the neighborhood in which I live, Inspector? >> Mycroft looks at him amused and Greg feels even more that he does not want to go further. << I have to admit that, if this were the case, despite the recent and sad events, it would amaze me a lot >> he adds. The refusal of Mycroft's invitation, that Greg was about to formulate, died on the inspector's lips. If something amazes the consulting detective's brother, whom he describes as more intelligent than him, then perhaps it is a good thing to listen to him.

<< For what reason? >> Greg asks, approaching him.

<< Well ... Mrs. Jackson was not the type of person to make such a gesture. Not even under stress >> Mycroft says, resuming his walking.

<< Wives can change from day to night, Mycroft >> Greg says with a sigh. Holmes barely looks at him. The ticking of the umbrella pointed on the ground accompanies their steps in an annoying way.

<< On this side, please >> Mycroft makes his way to the gate of a two-story liberty style house. Greg thougth that Mycroft lived in a kind of medieval castle, with gargoyles and towers, heavy dark curtains at the windows, a coffin instead of the bed and zombies as housekeepers. Instead this house is very lively and cheerful. They walk the short path to the door, which Mycroft opens with three sends of an old and large key.

<< It is the free evening of the staff, You will have to settle for my hospitality >> he says obsequiously and Greg seems to be in an old nineteenth-century novel. Greg's mother did the cleaning to round up his father's wages and cannot believe she is setting foot in the house of a man accustomed to being served and revered. Greg feels his father's annoyed gaze upon him, although his father has been dead for more than twenty years.

The entrance door opens onto a large living room in the center of which a beautiful and large fireplace dominates.

<< Please, take a seat >> Mycroft kindly invites him, pointing to one of the two burgundy fabric armchairs placed in front of the fireplace. Greg takes a seat in the soft embrace of the armchair and feels that he might even fall asleep and wake up fresh and rested. He looks around amazed by the sober furnishings. No period furniture, no paintings with exorbitant value on the walls. If the furniture in the house represents the person who lives in it, it could be said to be facing the simplest man he have ever known. Which clashes completely with the complexity of Mycroft's mind and his attitude to command, control and perfection.

<< It belonged to my uncle Rudhy >>.

<< What? >>

<< This house >> Mycroft replies, placing the protective glass in front of the fireplace. << I kept it as he had decorated it. In the end I only come here to sleep >>.

Here is the mystery explained. It is certainly somewhat sad. It is as if Mycroft were a guest in his house and for this reason he did not allow himself to give a personal touch to the place. Maybe he only did it with his bedroom, since he made it clear that he only comes back here to sleep, but Greg doesn't really think he wants to find out.

<< What happened to the Jackson must have upset you enough to make you run like that >> says Mycroft, approaching the bar-cabinet from which he takes a nice worked glass bottle full of an inviting amber liquid.

<< It wasn't a good show, I admit it >>.

<< I guess it >> Mycroft says, handing Greg a glass of the same worked glass. He poured a finger of fragrant brandy into it. Greg ecstatically breathes the fragrance of the liqueur before bringing the glass to his lips and taking a sip.

<< Fantastic! >>.

<< It is a Torres Jaime I. I like at the end of a full day, to give me a sip and I would say that this day was not only heavy for me >> Mycroft says, sitting down at the other armchair.

<< I do not know yours, but mine was nothing short of terrible >> Greg says, wetting his lips with a veil of liquor, intent on making it last as long as possible. << I apologize for having cut the road like that to your driver. I hope you haven't hurt yourself. I realize I haven't even asked you >> he says, passing his hand through his hair, embarrassed.

<< Hugh's reflexes are ready and in any case you has taken your best to avoid the worst >> Mycroft reassures him, pushing his worries away with a flutter of his hand.

<< You said, before, that you would be surprised that it was Mrs. Jackson who killed her husband and then turned the weapon on herself >> says Greg, bringing the argument on the investigation, just to dispel the sense of unease that oppresses him.

<< And I repeat it >> nods Mycroft.

<< I know ... I have the feeling that there is something that does not work >> Greg emphasizes, beating his fist on the arm of the armchair.

<< What? >> Mycroft asks him, tilting his head slightly to the side, curious.

<< First of all the dynamics. I admit I have not carefully read the report on the couple presented to me by one of my agents, because that damned portal has taken all my energy. Even to me, however, that woman had not seemed capable of killing someone. Of course, I had noticed how much the disgrace that just happened was already driving them away, but not enough to go that far. In a double suicide it is usually the man who shoots the woman and then himself and not the other way round >>.

<< Do you think, then, that someone has induced the woman to shoot her husband and then herself? >> Mycroft asks him more and more intrigued by him, as if he were observing the behavior of an animal placed before a riddle to solve.

<< It is one of the hypotheses I made myself >> nods Greg. << Only that I have not found evidence that can support it. It is true, however, that I only took a look at the crime scene >> he says, passing his hand over his tired face. << Tomorrow I will go back to it, read the scientific report and I take a look at the one on the couple. Then, if the woman recovers, I will also have the opportunity to hear directly from her what was happen. I don't want to dismiss the case simply, as proposed by Donovan >> Greg says between his teeth, massaging his tired face.

<< I think it's a good thing to listen to your instincts, inspector >> he says nodding. Mycroft's eyelids narrow slightly, as if he wanted to focus him better to study him more deeply. << I advise you, however, to also take into consideration the possibility that there is something more… personal that could prevent you from seeing the thing for what it is >>.

The feeling of being a mouse locked in a box and subjected to intelligence experiments for the amusement of a scientist does not like much to Greg and leads him to stiffen against the soft armchair. This tension is also caused by having heard his same concerns raised by this man.

<< Thank you for the advice, Mycroft. I know very well how this case touches on me still sensitive strings. I am able, however, to leave my private life out of my work >> he says with a little too harshness.

<< It was not my intention to discuss about your professionalism >> Holmes replies.

<< I know it well >> Greg hurries to say, eager for this exchange of jokes to end. Mycroft seems to grasp this discomfort and sketches a drawn smile before taking another sip of brandy.

<< Are you planning to let my brother know about your doubts? It won't take long to Sherlock to learn about the tragedy that happened tonight >>.

Greg feels an unusual shiver down his spine and a new wave of discomfort invade him.

<< Of course, we still conducted the case together and it is also possible that investigating what happened here could help Sherlock with the investigations he is carrying out in Spain. I wanted, however, to wait for something clearer in my hand. As I said, I only made an inspection and I did not have the opportunity or the strength, I must admit, to clarify my ideas >>.

Mycroft's eyelids get thinner and Greg takes a serious sip, this time, of brandy.

<< Moments of frailty are inherent in the human soul, Gregory >> Mycroft tells him serious. << I realize how heavy these last few days have been for you. Believe me when I tell you that I know how much a teenager's mood swings can generate worries and take away sleep >> he sighs and Greg is amazed at the confidence that Mycroft is making to him. << In such moments it is possible to let yourself be conditioned by whatever your neighbor tells us and you are so fragile that you don't realize how silly words without foundation are, more often than not >>.

Silence falls on their joint looks. There is a hidden message in Mycroft's words. Greg, however, cannot believe that it refers to what his instincts are showing him. How could this man be aware of the accusation that his ex-wife brought against him only a few hours ago?

<< I ... I think I just need to sleep, that's all >> Greg cut short, hoping Mycroft will understand it.

<< Don't be offended if I tell you that I can read it on your face >> Mycroft says with a smile. << I guess the discussion with your family was quite complicated >>.

Mycroft's eyelids narrow again. It looks like he wants to insist on what came out of the disastrous conversation attempt over a pizza and Greg can't believe he's trying to bring it to talk what Margaret told him about Sherlock.

<< A real failure >> Greg snaps, taking another sip full of brandy. The delicate taste of the liqueur calms his nerves, inviting him to rest his back stretched against the back of the armchair. << Elisabeth would like to come to live with me >> he finds himself saying and the grip that so far has kept his stomach closed, relaxes. << I didn't give the permission to her >> Greg continues. << I don't want to start another war and leave George alone where I know he doesn't want to be anymore >>.

Greg doesn't know why he's telling to Mycroft his business. The scent and flavor of the brandy, the comfort of the armchair, perhaps, help with confidences. Or he just needs to talk to anyone who is willing to listen to him.

<< My proposal is always valid >> renews Mycroft, just opening his hands as a sign of invitation.

<< No, Mycroft, thank you >> Greg says, sketching a smile. << And thanks also for the brandy. Really excellent >> he says emptying the glass of what's left of the liquor. << Better that I go, now >>.

<< Sure. Please allow me to accompany you >>.

<< Oh, no. I'll take a taxi >> Greg says, shivering at the idea of taking another trip in one of those black cars. Mycroft insists no further. In turn, he gets up from the armchair and accompanies Greg to the door.

<< It was a pleasure to chat with you, Gregory >> Mycroft says, offering him his hand.

<< For me too, Mycroft >> Greg lies, shaking Mycroft's hand.

He leaves the British government and his mansion behind to get on a taxi home with the strange feeling of having been X-rayed .


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Sometimes it is enough to scratch the surface to bring to light uncomfortable, secret, intimate situations. The clear, detailed and impeccable report drawn up by Agent Andrew Jordan outlines an image of Alfred Jackson that explains not only the reason for the dynamics of the massacre that took place in his home, but also what prompted his daughter to register at Fenix.

Gaming addict for four years, Jackson has slowly squandered his assets and bankrupted not only his company, but has even led his wife's insurance company to collapse due to the loans he required to be able to keep playing. To see them from outside, however, it would never have been said. They were so good at keeping up appearances and remaining in the eyes of others, a respectable English bourgeois family.

The economic crisis that has hit the family has forced Rosaline, defined by many as spoiled and capricious, to have to downsize her lifestyle. The young artist, who could afford the luxury of having the best materials, traveling the world to visit the exhibitions of the moment and getting to know gallerists, publishers and important authors, has seen diminished the possibility of continuing to have all this . Thus, she retreated into the fictitious success obtained on the portal, in the competition with other young as desperate as her, although for different reasons, and ended her life in the worst way. Deceived, derided, humiliated and driven to suicide.

<< Poor girl >> sighs Greg. He had many hopes in the interrogation he would have made to Mrs. Jackson, who, unfortunately died, carrying with her the truth about what happened.

<< Do you think we should probe the lives of each of those guys who committed suicide to find the reasons that led them to do it? >> Jordan asks him, diligently standing in front of his desk.

<< Why? >> Greg replies, by massaging his temples. << Each of them had reasons that they considered valid, albeit sad >>.

<< The sense of guilty is really dangerous >> says Jordan, retrieving the Jackson file. << Once they realized that they were the ones to lead their daughter to suicide, the woman made a crazy gesture >>.

Greg puts his hands on his face. He would like to correct the young agent and point out that the woman was not moved by guilt. She knew exactly who the fault was and thought it appropriate to punish her husband for his mistakes.

<< Are you all right, chief? >> asks the agent, just leaning towards him. Greg didn't sleep tonight and the thoughts that now flock to his mind must make his face even paler, tired and worrying.

<< Sure, Jordan >> Greg minimizes, by standing up. << You did a great job >> he says, patting him on the shoulder, which fills the boy with pride. << I have to go to Bart's for the Jackson autopsy >> he adds wearing his jacket.

<< Do you want me to come with you? >> asks Jordan and Greg smiles to recognize in this boy the same enthusiasm that animated him when he was his age.

<< No, Jordan. Reach Agent Donovan at the forensic scientific department and urge Anderson to give me the report on the findings made in that house >> he orders. The boy snaps like a military and go away. Greg travels the same road more slowly, exiting Scotland Yard.

The new service car was delivered to him with a request to take care of it. Strangely, Greg did not receive any other type of complaint regarding what happened the night before, nor was he asked for an explanation on the dynamics of the accident. Usually when a service car is destroyed, the driver is invited to take a test to detect traces of alcohol or drugs, but nobody asked Greg to do either. It is very strange.

Greg arrives at Bart's still wondering about this mystery and while he wonders if Mycroft can't have put his hand there, enters the coroner's room.

<< Oh, hi Greg >> Molly greets him, intent on mending Jackson's body. << I'm finishing the autopsy. I also have the husband report ready. I was just about to send it to you >>.

<< Give me a preview of both, do you want? >> Greg asks her, always feeling somewhat uncomfortable in that place.

<< Alfred Jackson carried all the signs of hypertension and smoking in his body. Dilated arteries and coronary arteries, black lungs to the point of wondering how he still managed to breathe. I have not found any trace of violence on his body, except for the gunshot that has torn his heart. I gave the bullet to the scientific >>

<< Yes, I sent one of mine to solicit Anderson >> Greg says, his eyes fixed on the trained fingers of Molly, who quickly carries on the suture.

<< Ms. Jackson, on the other hand, had a bad liver and an ulcer principle. Her stomach was empty and she was quite dehydrated. I found bruises on the right arm and on the left side >> she says, showing them. Greg observes them carefully, overcoming the usual reticence that catches him in this place in the presence of a newly slaughtered corpse.

<< So she was an alcoholic, tended to brood and swallow toads >> deduces Greg. << Given how much they had just lived with their daughter and all the economic problems they were facing, I would say that drinking to forget and not take care of nutrition is just the surface. These bruises, however, are strange >> he says, getting even closer to observe them better. They give the idea that she was grabbed from behind by the side and tugged by the arm. Greg saw the spouses very close during the surveys in their daughter's room and these may be signs that her husband left her in an attempt to support her from a failure.

<< They were left shortly before his death >> Molly tells him instead, taking him by surprise. << Is it possible that she and her husband had a scuffle, before she was shot him? >> asks Molly finishing her job.

<< No, the house was more than impeccable. There was not even a comma out of place >> Greg answers thoughtfully, feeling again that something is wrong. << It is as if the husband had stood up in front of her, ready to get shot >>.

<< A double suicide? >> speculates Molly.

<< Yes, I hypothesized that too. I was told that Mrs. Jackson didn't seem to be the kind to kill someone >>.

<< It is strange, Greg >> says Molly, her gaze lost in front of her. << Usually it is the man who shoots in double suicide situations. For chivalry, to avoid problems for the woman in case the suicide of the shooter is not successful >>.

<< Yes, it's the same thing that I thought >> Greg agrees, stroking his shaggy beard. << And then it wouldn't explain the existence of these bruises anyway. There is something that does not convince me, Molly >> Greg confides to her.

<< But ... wasn't Sherlock also on this case? >> Molly asks shyly. Her crush on the consulting detective is much more than evident.

"Poor thing" Greg thinks smiling. She looks away, blushing like a little girl. "It's not fair at all!" he thinks, finding her really pretty.

<< Yes, it was. He is continuing to follow the case of the Fenix portal, the one that led the Jackson daughter to suicide. He left for Madrid a few hours ago >>.

<< Oh >> she whispers saddened by the news. << You can't ask him for help, this time >>.

These words annoy Greg and he tries not to show it. He is already the second person asking him about Sherlock, as if he was unable to solve any case without availing himself of his collaboration. Yes, definitely the situation that has arisen with the consultant seems to have gotten out of hand.

<< No, but I think he would not even give it to me: it is too trivial a case >> Greg says between his teeth, imitating the consultant's disgusted and offended expression.

Molly laughs and Greg finds her even prettier. He feels something moving in his belly and is said to have actually skipped breakfast and it's time for lunch soon.

<< How is the canteen here at Bart's >> Greg asks her.

<< Excellent ... if you are not of great pretensions >> she answers, wrinkling her nose.

<< The bar opposite does excellent dishes. Would you like to keep me company? >>.

The question slips from his lips even before he realizes it. Molly is almost as surprised as he is. Sketch a smile and restart a lock of hair behind the ear.

<< Gladly >> she says, shrugging her shoulders, as if she wanted to become even smaller.

<< Very well >> Greg exclaims perhaps with a little too much enthusiasm. << Go get changed you, then. I'll wait for you in the elevator >>.

The girl nods, increasingly red in the face. They leave the room and while Molly goes to the changing rooms, Greg reaches the elevator. The inspector just needs a few minutes of waiting to begin to regret the invitation made, aware of the possibility of being misunderstood. He doesn't want to make a girl, already too mistreated by Sherlock, feel bad.

Greg changes his mind as soon as he sees her walking towards him. The the lab coat covered the beautiful light, cheerful and colorful dress that she wears and that totally clashes with the profession she carries out. They go to the bar, each on their own thoughts and only when they sit at the table in front of each other do they exchange a glance and both chuckle nervously.

<< Ok, an embarrassing situation usually leads to classic questions ... >>.

<< Oh, please. Don't you want to ask me: why exactly the pathologist? >> Molly interrupts him ironically.

<< In fact, it is a question that is a bit too obvious >> Greg chuckles, realizing that he is quite a bit out of practice in this kind of thing.

Both bless the waitress's arrival to take their orders. Diligently, Greg opts for simple water to accompany the first and not only because he is on work. Alcohol is becoming a fairly serious problem. Molly does the same thing, even if Greg doesn't think she has that kind of problem.

<< I never expected to be having lunch with you >> says Molly, restarting the lock of hair behind her ear. The sentence does not continue. Molly keeps her eyes down on the glass she is playing with.

<< The time is the right one, I haven't eaten since yesterday evening and I thought that you too would have lunch and that there would be nothing wrong ... >> he says, shrugging.

<< Indeed it is so. Only I was almost convinced that you detectives were deprived of the need to feed, sleep, rest and all those other things very typical of us silly human beings >>.

Greg knows who she is describing. The one who wrongly called the "detective" does indeed appear to be devoid of these human physiological needs.

<< Those are the consulting detective >> he says, seeing her feeling discovery. << I assure you that detectives have both these and other needs. Maybe we don't satisfy them regularly, but we certainly don't spend days without doing it >>.

The girl chuckles embarrassed and looks away. Greg wonders once again who made him do it. He repeats in his head infinite incipits with which to introduce some topic, just to kill the silence. He realizes, however, that he has nothing important to say and does not want to talk about the job. In fact, the only thing they have in common beyond work is the consulting detective. Using it as a topic of conversation, however, does not suit Greg very much.

<< Have you ... heard the rumors about Sherlock and John? >> Molly asks him, just looking up to meet his. Apparently, the girl thinks differently about making Sherlock their key topic for this disastrous lunch. Greg just nods, thinking it's the second time in too short a time that he finds himself talking about Sherlock's alleged homosexuality.

<< What do you think? I mean ... you and John go to the pub together sometimes ... he would have told you about it, I think >>.

The only thing that can get closer to the topic that John brought back to him is the skit set up by Moriarty to approach Sherlock and how Sherlock called him 'gay', by giving him just a glance of sufficiency. However, it does not seem appropriate to remind her of it. Thinking that the criminal courted Molly for the sole purpose of exploiting his infatuation with the consultant had annoyed Greg when John reported the episode and still annoys him. Perhaps also because of the things that the madman may have said or because of some questions he asked her, Molly decided to give him courage and ask him these questions. After all, yes, Greg and John can say they have become friends and, since getting something from Sherlock is almost impossible for their ordinary mortals, Molly thought to ask someone who might have received confidences from the other half of the hypothetical couple.

<< John is the most reserved and suspicious man I've ever known, Molly. Even more than Sherlock, who never misses an opportunity to show off and boast about himself >> it hurts him to confess.

<< But he does not unbutton himself too much >> she says and immediately brings her hand to her lips. << Bad choice of words >> nervous chuckles and Greg with her. << I mean ... if he was interested in ... if he wasn't interested in women, I guess he would tell me >>.

With perfect timing the waitress arrives with the dishes, breaking the rhythm of the conversation. For a long moment they both remain silent to take care of the dishes. There is a significant amount of tension at this table. He should have known, damn it.

<< I wouldn't take it for granted >> says Greg, catching his attention again. << Sherlock is the guy who spends a thousand of deductions on his neighbor, but says nothing about himself. I don't know if it is part of the character who built himself or if he is simply reserved >>.

As before, the girl lowers her gaze on the plate and interrupts the conversation. It must be difficult for her not only to talk about it, but also to listen to what he says to her.

<< It is true. He has no problem saying what he thinks to anyone in his face, of whatever it is >> sighs the girl, her eyes down on the food with which she fiddles << It is possible, as you said, that he do not talk about himself for these reasons. Precisely because he is so insightful, however, he could at least ... he should not even tell me clearly 'I am gay' >> she says. She looks up to meet him and she sighs feeling discovered. Greg would like to take her hand and cheer her up, make her understand that with him her secret is safe. Instead, he remains motionless, unable to say or do anything.

<< He could even just tell me 'Molly, I do not care about you!' >> whispers the girl, making herself small. << I would put my soul in peace. He, on the other hand, insists on leaving me suspended and, although I understand he is not interested, it has now become a challenge with myself >>.

<< A challenge to the massacre, Molly >> Greg says sincerely. << Why bump your head so hard? >>.

<< I'm starting to ask me too, Greg >> she sighs. << I think it's his eyes >>.

<< Well, they are of an indefinable color, they can be attractive >>.

<< No, it's not for the color or the shape or these more anatomical things >> she hurries to clarify. << It is for what they say. Have you ever noticed? >> she asks him, looking at him without hesitation. << Those eyes are capable of disturbing, of making uncomfortable with that continuous deductive analysis that they do. It feels like you have gone through X-rays and it is not at all pleasant >>.

<< Yeah >> Greg agrees.

<< Then he do those deductions directly in your face, like a pornographic image that hides nothing and puts everything on display. And you react in exactly the same way: with embarrassment, repulsion, but also with curiosity and interest. Only that interest cannot be expressed. Being seen interested in pornography is not good, isn't it? >>.

<< Not at all >>.

<< Yet it ignites us with curiosity and desire. And I think that this is what his eyes don't say, Greg. They tell everything about those who deduce, but nothing about the person who do the deduction. At the same time, however, it is as if through those deductions he tries to bring the other to himself. Try somehow ... >>.

<< ... to seduce him >> concludes Greg.

<< That's right >> she nods, satisfied that her reasoning has been followed. << Sherlock seduces us continuously. Perhaps John, unlike all of us, has acted in the opposite direction instead of pushing him away badly. He found Sherlock's mind fantastic and his ways bearable, so much so that he was the only one, on balance, to resist him. Maybe that's also why those rumors are circulating, don't you think? It doesn't take long to say 'Ah, there is something more!', Just because John accepted the characteristics, albeit bizarre, of a man who is usually far from everyone >>.

<< And if, instead, they were not just rumors? >> Greg challenge her, thinking about what Margaret told him about them. << If it really started like this between them and then evolved into something more? >>.

<< Well ... >> Molly remains silent, contemplating her plate. << There would be nothing wrong, however >> answers sincerely. << Indeed, it would be all clearer and, in a certain sense, I would also be happy for them >>.

"And you could be free to dedicate yourself to someone else," Greg thinks .

<< I would be too >> he says and realizes he really believes it. After all, he considers himself their friend. Perhaps more clearly John's friend, despite having known him for less time. If his friends are happy, why he could not be happy for them?

<< For example, nobody has ever dreamed of thinking that there was something between you and Sherlock >> continues Molly and Greg goes almost sideways.

<< Why they should have done it? >>.

Molly looks at him in amazement and Greg realizes that he has asked this question with a little too aggressiveness. He would like to apologize, but he thinks it's best to keep quiet and wait for her to make the next move.

<< Well >> she stammered, embarrassed, << Nobody thought a similar thing, just because you scold Sherlock, lets you go to a few jokes about him, every now and then and you are incredulous and annoyed of his deductions. You do not accept him for what he is, in short >>.

Greg had never realized he was as Molly described him. He is sorry that Margaret is not there to listen to her words. He would realize how stupid her accusations are. Greg smiles and shakes his head, still incredulous that his ex really thinks so.

<< Yet, you know, there is a person who is convinced that there is a sexual-romantic affair between Sherlock and me that has lasted for years >> he says, feeling the need to talk about it and Molly is a reserved person whom Greg feels he can trust.

<< Who? >> she asks. The girl leans curiously towards him and for a moment Greg sees Margaret in her. She was driven by the same curiosity when, in a mysterious way, at their first date he had revealed to her that he was doing a very delicate and important job.

<< My ex wife >> he reveals, leaving Molly with her mouth open. << And it seems that the reason for her becoming 'ex' is precisely this. It is a pity that she never revealed to me before yesterday what made her leave me. She always said it was because of my job and, instead, it is because of one of the people I occasionally work with >>.

<< Oh my God, what a bad situation! >> whispers astonished Molly.

<< Terrible >> Greg admits, passing a hand over his face. << When Margaret and me were together since few month, a colleague didn't stop trying to make me understand how available she was, but I ignored her. When Lizzy was a few months old the same thing happened, and that time she was a superintendent. I say, I could have achieved a career advancement in the course of a night of sex or be banged to direct the traffic for not having accepted it, yet I ignored her, going through my good troubles, believe me. The last chance was three years ago and I have to admit that resisting was tough, given the tension in the family, yet I ignored it for the simple fact that I love Margaret >> he says and then stops, thinking about that last word. << I loved her >> he corrects, scratching his head. << Jesus, I don't know. I don't know anything anymore >> he chuckles bitterly. << I only know that I have always been faithful and that she thougth that I had lost my mind for the most unlikely person. A person that has never even tried to seduce me, just to be clear >>.

<< Even if he did, there wouldn't have been anything wrong >> says the girl, shrugging. << If a man tries to seduce you, it doesn't mean that you are gay or bisexual or who knows what else. It just means that you are a handsome man for whom an approach is worth trying >>.

Molly seems to realize only after a moment what she said and blushes conspicuously, which makes the detective's heart tumble.

<< Thanks, Molly >> he says, taking her hand. << What you say is good for my self-esteem, really >>.

<< I said only the truth >> she says, smiling with more confidence, while in turn shaking Greg's hand. << And I think that another truth is that your ex-wife is a huge fool! >> she says seriously, making him laugh out loud. << I mean really, Greg! She had a man by his side ready to throw in the wind the possibility of betraying her three times and she gives up him, cause on the suspicion that he has lost his head for a man. I think you have every right to leave her behind and move on >> she says, shaking his hand. For the first time Greg feels that, yes, he can do it, because Margaret has been really stupid.

"We could go on together," he think, but be careful to keep that thought to himself. He doesn't feel ready yet, not for a serious relationship, however. And Molly has suffered enough to find herself with a confused and unconfident man as she feels he is right now.

The phone rings tearing them away from that moment of complicity.

<< Anderson >> Greg snorts and realizes he has the same opinion as the consulting detective for the scientist. He apologizes to Molly and replies.

<< Chief, I wanted to give you a preview of the report I am sending you by e-mail. By the way, thanks for putting Jordan on my back >> he says and Greg chuckles under his mustache, promising to offer the boy a coffee.

<< If his ways work so well, I'll unleash him behind you much more often, Phillip >>. Molly smiles at his joke and he winks at her making her blush.

<< I have examined the finds delivered by Hooper and I confirm the presence of traces of gunpowder on Jackson's hands. We can confirm, therefore, that she really pulled the trigger and killed her husband >>.

<< Did you find other bullets in the room? >>.

<< Nobody. Not even in the gun, to be honest >> says and it affects Greg.

<< Other elements that may lead you to think that they were not alone? >>.

<< No, nobody. The scene was as clean and tidy as you saw it. No footprint that did not belong to the victims, no element out of place. It seems that it is a murder - suicide, chief >>.

<< So you're telling me that a woman who has never taken a weapon in her life loaded it with only two bullets and fired hitting her husband straight in the heart? >> he says, finding his own words absurd.

<< That's right, chief >> proudly replies Anderson. << The gun was duly registered in the name of Alfred Jackson, who bought it four months ago. It is also clear from the records that he went to the shooting range twice in the last few months. It is possible that they went together >>.

<< Of course, of course, it is also possible that his wife was a skilled sniper >> he sighs, desperately raising his eyes to heaven. << Anderson, we are talking about a woman who saw that weapon on the two occasions when her husband took it to go to the shooting range. Whether it's murder or double suicide I find it impossible that the woman's hand is not shaken and that she felt safe to the point of not introducing more than two bullets into the drum >>.

<< Maybe she didn't have the time >> speculates the cop cornered.

<< Of course, we solve crimes with hypotheses >> Greg snorts. << Look, let's close it here >> he says silencing Anderson's attempt to reply. << As soon as I get back to the control center and carry on with the investigation >>.

<< Do you want to continue with the investigation? >> Astonished asks Anderson. << Chief, there is nothing to investigate. We are facing a murder - suicide. We can also hypothesize a double suicide, but there is really no other reason to stay on this story again >>.

Greg clenches his fist and takes a good number of breaths. He wants to avoid breaking out and pouring all his miseries on this idiot. Then he is still having lunch with a woman and showing the worst of himself is not the best to impress her.

<< Until proven otherwise, Anderson, it is up to me to decide if a case is ready to be closed and until I have removed all doubts it will remain open, whether you like it or not! >> he says between his teeth. << Thank you for giving me your valuable opinion >> he adds by closing the call on his face.

Greg squeezes the phone too tightly in his hands and feels a vibration under his skin, in his belly, throughout his body, which he struggles to control.

<< Forgive me for the sad show I made you participate in >> he says to Molly, struggling to even support her gaze.

<< Phillip is an asshole >> says the girl taking him by surprise. He looks up to meet her and both explode in a fat laugh that captures the attention of many present.

<< I couldn't have said it better >> Greg says with laughter. << I have always tried to defend him, but I must say that Sherlock is really right to bad treat him >>.

<< Yes, I must say that someone like him deserves it >> Molly nods wiping the cheerful tears carefully so as not to make the makeup drool. Greg doesn't remember her wearing makeup when he arrived in the morgue. He feels a strange pleasure at the idea that she put on make-up for this lunch together. He hadn't had a woman come up for him for quite some time.

"Maybe as a man I'm still worth something," he says, moving away from the idea that he is increasingly making his way into his head of being too old, too tired, too boring and too scruffy to be able to arouse interest in a woman.

<< I think you are right to keep the case open. I never close a corps until I have dispelled all doubts, otherwise I don't sleep at night >> she says, embarrassedly restarting a lock of hair behind her ears. In fact, Greg has heard about how fussy and precise, almost maniacal at work, the young pathologist is. << Our work is important and full of responsibility. One cannot be approximate, not with the life of others >>.

Greg nods entirely in agreement with her. He realizes how much he is really starting to like this woman.

<< Thank you, Molly >> he says taking her hand again. << Not everyone realizes how much it really is. I will close the case only when I consider it necessary. Until then, if we happen to meet again near meals and you want to honor me with your presence I will be happy >>.

The girl laughs embarrassed and nods, restarting the same lock of hair just before the ear. Perhaps it was the most bizarre and absurd phrase he ever used for an invitation, but it seems to have been successful. Surely he sent that country the good intention of staying on his in the name of the confusion he feels prey to.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Mrs. Jackson was still and motionless between the sofa and the low table. His body had been found on the floor, sprawled. Reverse on the right side, in line with the trajectory of the bullet that crossed her skull from the left temple. The husband, however, was standing three meters away, on the opposite side of the living room. He fell on his back. The bullet that pierced his heart went to stick into the wall behind him, the same against which he hit, then, slowly, sliding to the floor.

Greg looks at the long trail of blood he drew on the white plaster. As if Alfred Jackson had wanted to leave one last trace of himself on this world.

<< Yes, it is possible that our daughter had problems and we did not notice or did not want to see them or ... or I don't know >> the man said when the daughter's body was still outstretched, cold, over the carpeting in her bedroom.

"Problems that you helped create," Greg thinks. “You must have felt guilty, old friend. I would have gone mad with pain. "

Greg runs his hand over his face and realizes how it shakes slightly. Alfred Jackson hadn't seemed guilty to him that morning. Definitely upset and in shock, but not guilty, even when he admitted their possible absence. It was his wife who went crazy. She stressed that they had not taken the daughter's malaise into account.

"Was she feeling guilty" Greg thinks, turning his gaze to the dark stain still present on the parquet. It is possible that that sense of guilt arose from having covered the husband's gambling addiction. She felt an accomplice to the slow decline in the family economy, forced to do somersaults to maintain appearances in this neighborhood of wealthy rich people.

"Or you too had your faults, which have nothing to do with those of your husband" thinks Greg, and Margaret replaces, in her thoughts, this woman. She who was silent, deciding to send their marriage to hell, without addressing the topic that troubled her most and that once clarified could have put things right. "Who knows, it is also possible that your husband was not guilty, except that he was not very present, and that only this mess has put you on your feet" Greg exaggerates, realizing that he is taking a completely different path that away from the investigation.

<< What she did for ... the way she did it is strange, don't you think? >> Jackson asked Sherlock, referring to the way his daughter had decided to take her own life.

"The way you decided to move to a better life is also strange," reflects Greg.

How could a woman like Susan Jackson, clean, flawless at work as well as in private life, shoot straight into her husband's heart? She did not hit him from a close distance, which would have helped her not to make a mistake, but from three meters. She had a hand too firm for a woman in despair.

"No, I can't even believe the lucidity of madness" Greg snorts, shaking his head in the face of yet another Anderson's hypothesis, that Greg has discarded by handing him the file.

"These bruises, then," Greg thinks, taking from the Molly's report the photo of the bruises found on Susan's body. "No, there are too many things that don't convince me," Greg concludes, even more convinced of the importance of continuing the investigation.

A noise behind Greg distracts him from his thoughts. He turns and with little joy finds Donovan, stops a few steps from the front door. Her arms crossed over her chest and the expression she usually puts on when preparing for a lecture.

<< Didn't you have to be in Hammersmith, for the man found lifeless in the warehouses of a Tesco chain supermarket? >> Greg asks her, returning to the reports he holds in his hand.

<< The man died of a heart attack. He was a homeless man who had made a habit of hiding there for the night >> she says, taking a few steps towards him. << Phillip told me you were here and you're not going to close the case >>.

<< That's right >> Greg says and hears her snorting a chuckle. He would like to turn to her and load her with insults, but Greg decides to postpone and remain still in his place.

<< It's a simple case of murder - suicide, Greg. Why do you insist on wanting to see more? >>.

<< Maybe because there is something else >> he blurts out, turning to her. The woman takes a step back, surprised by his aggressive ways.

<< What? >> she asks him, determined to stand up to him. << We have not found anything that does not confirm the tragedy >> she says slowly speaking, as if she were facing a man with problems. << I ... I can imagine how hard this Fenix story was for you ... >>.

<< No, Sally, I do not think you can >> he blurts out with a glance. << I am not forcing you to stay on the case, as you see, so let me carry on my work and go back to the command >>.

<< I'm just worried about you >> she replies. She looks away and squeezes her arms even harder to his chest. It is not the first time that Sally faces him openly. Usually at the center of their discussions is the consulting detective, whose presence the woman just does not tolerate. Now, however, she seems almost embarrassed, as if admitting that concern had cost her dearly.

<< Thanks, Sally, but there is no need >> Greg says, lowering his tones.

He receives a message on his cell phone, looks at who the sender is and puts it back in his pocket.

<< Are you ignoring it? >> Sally asks amazed, taking him by surprise.

<< What are you talking about? >>.

<< Every time the freak writes to you, you make a face. A mixture of a smile or a curse. I learned to recognize it, therefore, don't try to rip me off >> she says, pointing her finger at him. Greg brings his hand to his mouth, incredulous of having such an obvious reaction. << Is it he who asked you to keep this case open? >> Sally urges him, covering the distance that separates them. << You don't need him, Greg. Stop playing the assistant of the consulting detective >>.

<< I'm being a detective >> Greg retorts with a higher tone of voice. << It is my responsibility to declare the conclusion of an investigation and until I find the meaning of these irregularities, I do not close the case. Since I am your chief, I invite you to stay in your place and not to judge my methods >>.

The woman clenches her fists and closes her eyes, intending to quell an explosion. However, her fury is well impressed in the look she gives him.

<< It will only hurt you to deal with him >> she says gravely. << That freak does not realize the harm he does to the people who rely on him. It is the cases that interests him, not the person who proposes it to him. Sherlock doesn't think about the consequences that you could be face >>.

<< Consequences? >> Greg asks, feeling his stomach close in a breathtaking grip.

<< His ‘friend’ on his blog talks about the cases that they follow together and is getting successful. You gave to Sherlock many of these cases and, even if Watson does not openly give your name, it is not so difficult to know who was the inspector who Scotland Yard had entrusted these cases >> Sally sighs and his expression softens. << I'm worried only that you can lose your job because of him, Greg. Sherlock shouldn't set foot on crime scenes, like any other civilian, instead he is always in the way. Give it a cut and close this case >> she says, placing her hand on his.

Greg must admit that he hadn't thought about this possibility. He knows he is violating the rules every time he contacts Sherlock, but now that thanks to John, his name is starting to circulate on the web Greg realizes that Donovan is right. Sherlock was already the indirect cause of the end of his marriage. He really doesn't want it to be the direct cause of his dismissal.

The detective just nods and feels her hand tighten his. Sally smiles, surely satisfied that she had the last word, but there is also the sweetness on her face.

<< Let's go back to the central together? >> she asks.

<< No, I have to go get my children >> Greg says, taking a look at the clock.

<< Then I go ahead of you. See you later >> she says winking, a gesture that is absolutely not typical of her. Not with him, at least.

Greg is stunned, his gaze turned to the door. He receives another message that shakes him from his thoughts. He picks up his cell phone and opens the first one.

Why didn't you tell me about the Jackson!

The murder-suicide doesn't convince me.

I await details. SH

<< Two of us are not convinced >> Greg sighs, feeling heartened by the consultant's doubt. He is not going crazy and he is not even reliving the potential and sad future that would have awaited him if his daughter had committed suicide. Greg 

opens the second one, send by John.

How are you doing, Greg?

Were you able to tame the tiger or did you come out in tatters?

He barely smiles at John's joke. He looks at the two messages, one above the other, and realizes that he does not want to reply to either of them.

What Sherlock said has reinforced his belief and cast out the idea of closing the case on the wave of Donovan's words and concerns.

<< Behind a gesture of this type there can be a thousand reasons, Mr. Jackson >> the consultant said to the desperate father who wondered if it was not strange the way the daughter decided to commit suicide.

What could be the reasons that led Susan Jackson to do so? If put aside for a moment the desperation for losing a daughter and the anger towards her husband, seen as the one who caused her death, what else can there be?

<< It seems to be all your husband's fault >> Greg says to a framed photo resting on the fireplace, which portrays the cheerful family with their calices raised for a toast. << The responsibilities, however, are usually divided to fifty percent. I can't imagine that your percentage is only about being complicit in his gambling addiction >>.

Something in the photo catches Greg's eye. He picks up the frame and the nearest door to better observe it.

<< Oh my! >> he exclaims, turning his gaze to the blood stain of the woman still present on the parquet. Susan holds the chalice with her right hand, while both Anderson and Molly agree that the woman shot herself in the left temple. Traces of gunpowder were also found only on the left hand.

Greg starts to pay attention to all the photos in the living room, but he doesn't find others that can help him understand if this is just a case, or if the woman used to use her right hand. He goes around the house without getting results and starts looking in the bookstores, in the drawers for some photo albums.

<< Jesus, you were old enough to have had old-fashioned photos >> he mutters nervously.

Finally Greg find the wedding album. He scrolls through the photos in search of the most important one and when he finds it, he lets an imprecation escape. Here she is Susan, much younger and smiling, signing her new status as a married woman. It is with his right hand that he holds the pen. Greg scrolls through the other photos and in each one finds a cutlery, a glass, a gift shown to the photographer with pride, all carried with his right hand.

<< My dear, you were not left-handed at all! >> Greg exclaims elated. << I thank you because I discovered two things: the first, that it wasn't you who killed your husband and then turned the weapon to yourself. The second, which I have the pleasure of dealing with a left-handed killer >>.

Greg takes his cell phone, opens Sherlock's message and prepares to inform him of what he has discovered. He remains, however, to watch the cursor flash. Greg doesn't want to let Sherlock know what he's found out.

"This is my case!" he thinks, putting his cell phone back in his pocket.

<< I can't wait to find out which skeletons you have in the closet. Because I imagine that there are several >> Greg says to the smiling and young bride portrayed in the photo. He closes the album, puts it in place and picks up the phone again, by calling a number from the phone book.

<< Jordan, do you remind me where Susan Jackson's insurance company is located? >> he asks the agent, without even giving him time to say 'Hello'. The man is dumbfounded for a moment, mumbles a few monosyllables before activating the answer.

<< In Wembley, at 107 Chaplin road, in front of the police academy. Is it something wrong, Inspector? >> he asks him with a veil of anxiety in his voice. Jordan drafted the spouse report and Greg thinks it's more than possible that he feels called into question.

<< I want to take a look at that woman's business, that's all >> he reply as he leaves the house.

<< If I can be useful I rush to the place >>. Greg laughs to himself at the boy's boldness.

<< No, Jordan, stay in command. Go to Donovan and see if she has a case to place you on >> he says, getting into traffic.

<< Chief, sorry if I insist, but, since I carried out the investigations on the couple and drafted the report. I would like to be able to support you in this new inspection >>.

Greg wonders what is going on with his agents, who feel justified in challenging his decisions.

<< We will confront as soon as I return, Jordan >> he says in a tone that doesn't give the possibility to replies. The boy, in fact, takes care not to add anything else.

The traffic is impossible as usual and Greg risks taking twice as long, already long, to reach the place. While driving fast, burning some traffic lights, he receives another message.

Do you going to ignore me, Lestrade? SH

<< It is good that you too can try what effect it does >> Greg burst out laughing, putting the phone back in his pocket.

He receives other messages on the way, but he is careful to ignore them. Greg arrives on Chaplin road after three quarters of an hour spent in traffic.

The doorbell of number 107 rings and shows the badge to the woman in a burgundy suit who comes to open the door for him.

<< I'm Inspector Lestrade, I'm here to ask you a few questions about Mrs. Jackson >>.

<< I had said everything I knew to the agent who had been sent here >> says the nervous woman.

<< There have been evolutions in the case >>.

<< Sure >> she retorts, biting her lips. << You finds me by pure chance. I had come here to get my things >> she adds, inviting him to come in. It is as if this woman is keen to distance herself from whatever she is asking for.

The entrance of this insurance company for very wealthy people, very close to closing, is very chic.

<< Did you work here? >> Greg asks her.

<< Yes. My name is Eleonor Marshall and, as I said to your colleague, I was Mrs. Jackson's personal secretary >> she says, shaking hands in one another in a clear sign of agitation.

"My presence here worries her and I wonder why" wonders Greg.

<< What were the causes that led the agency to bankruptcy >> Greg asks, leaning on the counter of what was once the reception.

<< Well… let's say that Mrs. Jackson has made loans to the wrong person >> says the embarrassed woman.

<< Are you referring to the vice of the game of the husband? >> he asks her and she nods and shakes her hands even stronger against each other.

There is something in the nervousness of this woman that makes Greg's antennas stand upright. He would understand if she was angry with her chief's husband or sad about the situation that Susan was experiencing and that led her to lose her job, but this anxiety so badly managed does not make any sense.

<< I will let you go back to your things, madam. I do it myself >>.

The woman's eyes widen and it alerts Greg even more. He imagined she would be relieved of the idea of being able to leave and, instead, she seems worried that he is intent on doing it himself. The woman nods unconvinced and walks away to enter what must be her office.

Greg takes a seat at the reception computer and checks the contents. He finds nothing that could indicate any anomaly, neither administrative nor managerial. The customer book is flawless as are the balance sheets. It's all too perfect, as was the Jackson apartment.

"And for this it stinks me," he says, reaching the secretary in his study. The woman startled to hear him arrive, an exaggerated reaction that Greg notes in memory.

<< Was that Jackson's office? >> he asks and she just nods. Greg enters it, closes the door and looks around. There is no computer at the desk. He sits down in the armchair, as comfortable as Mycroft Holmes', and starts opening the drawers on the desk. The last one is locked and Greg open it up without thinking twice. Inside this drawer there are Jackson's personal agendas for the past five years. He browses them without finding irregularities or anything that catches his attention, up to that of last year. Since April the woman has started to write strange notes on her agenda.

10 am. Bring it all there

It recites the first note that returns on time on the first Wednesday of each month, up to four months before the daughter commits suicide.

<< Bring all what? And there where? >> Greg wonders, by massaging the bristly beard of the chin. Greg stands up, leaves the office and startles the secretary again.

<< I need to talk to you >> he says. He is determined to see us clearly.

<< I have nothing more to say than what I have already communicated to your agent >> insists the woman, standing still behind her desk. She is rigid. Her eyes are wide and frightened.

<< I found strange notes on your chief's personal agendas from last year and this year >> Greg insists, placing the open agenda on one of them under her nose. << They stop four months before the daughter's death. I was wondering if you knew what it is >>.

The woman just looks at the note and shakes her head mechanically.

<< You don't know? >> urges Greg. << Do you think it would refresh your memory to come with me to Scotland Yard? >>.

<< No! >> she exclaims firmly. She brings her hands to her head and takes a deep breath together with a decision. << I have nothing to do with it, I want it to be more than clear that I have nothing to do with it! >> she says loudly before sitting in front of her pc. << The files have been burned and all traces on the pc deleted. I, however, I copied all the files on this stick >> she says, showing him a USB stick that she connects to the PC. << I did it because I didn't agree with what they were doing. Susan, however, kept me in hand and I wanted to ensure a way out in case I found myself in a situation like this >>.

The woman opens a file that contains a table.

<< Who are these people? >> asks Greg, throwing the eye here and there on the names indicated in the table.

<< Those who have been scammed by my chief and her insurance agency >> says the woman gravely. Greg looks at her with a lot of eyes.

<< Susan Jackson scamming her customers? >> he asks in amazement.

<< Only those who she thought to be too stupid to find out. There was a lot of money circulating here, inspector. Wealthy people who didn't care if they asked for an extra £ 1000, nor worried about finding out why. My chief inflated the policies, sold non-existent services, guaranteed reimbursement percentages and, in the most serious cases, liquidating the customer apologizing for the fact that the insurance does not cover the damage suffered and then pocketed the refund. She was an unscrupulous careerist woman. I confess that I didn't cry at all for her death. I was sorry only for her husband >>.

<< Why? >> Greg asks her, even more amazed.

<< Alfred was a good man, in love with that harpy to the point of passing them all. He has come to squander his assets, by making his company go bankrupt just to help her to pay her blackmailers >>.

<< Wait a minute, are you telling me that someone was blackmailing Susan Jackson? >>.

<< Two former employees >> the woman nods. << They have not anything to lose, unlike me, and have decided to try. They kept her by the neck and I admire them for doing it. These notes that you found are relate to the days they meet to dare money. Strictly in cash, of course >>.

<< Why were they stopped four months ago? >> Greg asks and the woman gets dark. Slowly shakes her head.

<< I don't know, believe me >> she sighs. << I only know that, in recent months, Susan had become more nervous and unbearable than usual >>.

Greg runs his hand over his incredulous face. What Susan Jackson's secretary is telling him is exactly the opposite of what they have so far given for sure. The husband is described here as completely innocent and, indeed, a victim of circumstances and the wife as the worst of the harpies. Greg tries to ignore the intimate satisfaction he is feeling and once again he must remember that it is not about him or his ex-wife but about the Jackson.

The thing that must now be made clear is why Jordan's report reported information diametrically opposed from what he had just discovered.

<< Why didn't you say all this to my agent? >>

The woman turns pale and trembles again, a detail that Greg really can't understand.

<< Your agent has limited himself to checking the registers and the computers. He has not put his hands in the things of my chief >> she says, twisting her nose. << Alfred had decided to put himself in a bad light in order to protect his wife. I followed his decision, although I don't agree with him. I thought I was safe. The newspapers spoke of it as a double suicide >> she says, shaking her head. << A man like that did not deserve it, that woman >> sighs heartily.

<< Who were the blackmailers? >>.

Eleonor shivers and brings a hand to her face.

<< You can't ask me this >> she says, shaking her head hard.

<< Unfortunately I can. Either here or in the police station, madam. The choice is up to you >> he says, cornering her. The woman nods and retrieves the cards of her former colleagues from the PC.

<< Alan Mcmanara and Jared Gregson >> she says. Greg notes the addresses and telephone numbers of the two.

<< I advise you not to leave the city. I could need to question you further >>.

<< I have nothing to do with it, Inspector! >> shouts the woman, losing control completely. << I was blackmailed in turn by that woman. She would have suspended the reimbursement of medical care for my son by the policy I had stipulated, if I hadn't done what she wanted >> she says in the tears, that melt the rimmel by drawing long black stripes on her cheeks. << Susan is now dead, Inspector. Just like her husband and daughter, why investigate again? >>.

<< Because some people have been scammed and two men have acted for extortion >> he says sternly, quelling her crisis. << The former deserve justice, the latter the due punishment. I have to ask you to give me the Usb stick. What you copied above is important evidence. If indeed you too was a victim of blackmail, the judge and the jurors will take it into account >>.

The woman seems to reflect on it and nods, sniffling. She hands him the Usb stick and sits on the chair. Greg leaves her like this, lost in contemplating what she found herself having to do because of her chief, while he hurries to leave that agency ready to return to the police station. Greg wants to take away the satisfaction of waving the new information obtained under Donovan's nose, asking her if she is still of the idea that it is wrong to leave the case open.

Greg realizes, however, that he risks being late to go and recover his children from school. He puts the USB stick in his jacket pocket and heads for George's school.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

George is already out of school when Greg pulls over. The boy smile realizing his dad's arrival and walks quickly towards him.

<< Hi dad >> he greets him, getting into the car. Until a few years earlier, that greeting was accompanied by a kiss. Greg must admit that he misses that kiss, although he understands why the ritual was interrupted.

<< Hi Georgie, sorry if I'm late. I was on the other side of the city >> he says entering the traffic, directed to his daughter's school. << Is your torture finished for today? >>.

<< Mine yes. But you? Did you hear from Sherlock? >> George asks him and Greg notices how his son eyes light up when he talks about the consultant. Greg feels the weight of the messages he hasn't answered yet. He does not like lying to his children, since he is committed to teaching them not to do it, but to find himself embroiled in a discussion made of why and how he does not want to.

<< No, but it's normal. Sherlock will contact me only when he has all the pieces of the puzzle in his hand >> reply Greg, realizing how he is waiting for a complete picture of the situation to decide to reply to Sherlock's messages.

<< Didn't John say anything to you either? >> George asks disconsolate. His son has always had the ability to put him in a corner with his curiosity.

<< No and to tell the truth I didn't have time to ask for anything, not even I >> he still lies. If for Sherlock he can justify himself with the excuse of more detailed information, for John, Greg doesn't know exactly why he hasn't answered yet. Perhaps to prevent the consultant from noticing the thing and hammering it even more than messages. Or maybe because he didn't want to tell John exactly how the civil discussion attempt with his ex-wife went, and above all what came out of it.

<< Are you working on a new case? >>.

It always warms Greg's heart to see his son so interested in his job. He would like that George follows his steps and become a detective himself, but at the same time, given the end that his marriage had, Greg does not know if it is a good thing to wish for his son future.

Greg knows how much Margaret doesn't want that him talk about his work to the children. She is convinced that he can upset them. Then, Greg knows that he has a confidentiality to maintain on the investigations. However, he has not yet had the opportunity to talk to anyone about what he discovered at the insurance agency's visit and perhaps this is why he tells George why he has not yet closed what appeared to be a simple murder-suicide case. The boy listens to him attentively and Greg gets so caught up in the story that he forgets that he usually not talk about the most gruesome details and control the language, in which swearing.

<< What a story! >> George exclaims satisfied and elated, clapping his hands on his knees.

<< Keep it for yourself >> warns Greg, realizing that he has gone too far. He parks in front of his daughter's school and they stay in the car waiting for the bell to ring.

<< I wouldn't even speak under torture >> George says, marking an X on his chest. << I think you did well to insist on wanting to keep the case open. Don't care what Donovan thinks >> he snorts, crossing his arms over his chest. << In my opinion she has a crush for you >> he snickers.

<< What? >> Greg replies, laughing in turn. << She has a relationship with Anderson. I don't see why she should want me >>.

<< Maybe because you're single now? >> points out his son.

Greg must admit that he never thought about it. On balance, what else could explain the attentions and concerns that Sally says she has about him be moved by?

<< No, listen, get it out of your head! >> Greg retorts, shaking his head. << And anyway it's not really my type of woman >> adds to avoid misunderstandings.

<< Thank goodness! You need a woman who knows what sweetness is, dad. You have already had one of virago. And you generated another >> George adds softly, seeing her sister arrive towards them, arm in arm with a friend.

Greg is amazed at his son. He wonders who this young adult is who gives him advice on women, even telling him who he needs to have next to him, and what happened to the boy who spoke to him about comics and rugby. Greg seems to be seeing his son now for the first time with different eyes, which focus on the beard that shadows George's face, the once slender build that is now becoming more massive. Now he realizes how are right those who tell him how much George looks like him. He has definitely lost some pieces on the street and although he is proud of the young man who has contributed to giving to this world, Greg feels a profound nostalgia for the child who is slowly losing.

<< Go behind, Georgie, and leave me the place >> intimate Elisabeth to her brother, snatching Greg from her thoughts.

<< You go behind! I arrived first >> he replies for no intention to be prevaricated.

The two begin to squabble and Greg realizes that he is still dealing with two children.

<< Lizzy, get in the back >> Greg snaps, receiving a bad look from his daughter.

<< But I'm the biggest! >> she replies, disheartened.

<< Actually I'm the biggest in here. Sit behind and few stories >>.

The girl closes, perhaps with a little too much force, the door and sits behind, after throwing the backpack. She crosses her arms to her chest, indignantly and turns her gaze out the window.

Greg watches her from the rearview mirror as he starts the car and he can not help but notice the same frown of the mother in his beautiful daughter. Apparently George is right when he sais that Greg bringing a virago into the world.

<< Shall we go to you? >> she asks.

Since Greg left theis home, his children do nothing but ask him to bring them to his new home, curious (and even a little worried) to see how he got settled. The idea of taking them without warning to the small apartment he had find quickly made him uncomfortable. Greg think that the fridge is empty of food and full of beers. The disorder reigns supreme, made of clothes left around and little cleaning.

<< Dad has an interesting case in his hands and must investigate >> George comes to his rescue. The boy smiles at him, but what Greg sees on his face causes another pang in the stomach. His son has a pained look, softened by a smile of compassion. That George feels his father's pain and this sense of unease hurts Greg. Elisabeth does not retort what her brother dictates. She shakes her head just as her mother usually does in the face of Greg's job duties, always ready to take him away from home.

<< The case can wait >> says Greg, taking them both by surprise. << I don't have much at home, but we can go shopping and organize ourselves a tea, what do you say? >> throw there, on the wave of emotions born from that simple movement of the girl's head.

<< The tea of the old starched ladies. I'm there >> George enthusiastically replies, bringing back the memory of the game Greg used to play with them when they were younger, where tea time was transformed into a parody of the absurd English nobility.

<< Me too, but let's take the dry biscuits instead of the sweets loaded with butter >> requires Elisabeth.

<< Look, you also get fat with dry biscuits, princess >> retorts the boy. The sister hits him with a slap and, needless to say, he turns to give it back.

<< Hey, stop it, I'm trying to drive! >> says Greg, who already regrets the proposal he has made. << We will take both and we are all happy >>.

The boys seem to be making this decision well which brings peace to the car interior, which has been difficult to achieve in recent times.

Fortunately, the shop under Greg's house has a well-stocked pastry shop and a wide choice of types of tea. Obviously, the boys argue with each other about what to take, how much to take and Greg finds himself once again bringing balance back to the universe.

He looks around, embarrassed by the way he was forced to raise his voice, and meets the smile of an employee in the shop. Greg had noticed this beautiful woman in her thirties also on the other few occasions when he found himself shopping here. She had always smiled at him and he had politely reciprocated, as he is preparing to do now. Elisabeth, however, stands between them, takes him by the arm and drags him towards the cash desks, deciding that they have now taken everything they need and can also 'go away from this place'. Greg notes that he does not fail to raise his voice to underline the concept and sees her glance at the shop employee. He is about to ask himself why his daughter's attitude, when the doubt that the smile that the woman gives him is not moved by the simple courtesy shown to customers, assails him.

Greg turns to her, who smiles again and winks. He must admit that that simple gesture fills him with pride for himself.

"Woe to you if you don't take the opportunity to come back here as soon as possible and go out with that woman's number in your pocket," John says in his head and Greg tries to hold back a laugh, thinking about the many times the doctor he urged 'to make buyers understand that he is back on the market', as he used to say. The way his daughter reacted to that innocent exchange of glances, however, makes him understand how much he would risk losing her and generating new clashes and tensions.

Greg therefore silences John's annoyed rumbling and, with their loot closed in a bag, is preparing to leave the shop and reach the building where he lives.

<< Do you not expect anything >> Greg says nervously, going up the two flights of stairs. He realizes even more now how the apartment is in poor condition and how he was stupid to propose to them to come here. The smell of pre-cooked food that invests him by opening the door does not help. Disorder reigns supreme and makes him think of all the times when he ordered them to keep the bedrooms tidy.

The boys follow him into the house, look around but thet say nothing. They approach the kitchen table, cluttered with dishes to wash, cups, old newspapers and used napkins, which Greg tries to make disappear in a moment.

<< Where's the kettle? >> Elisabeth asks him.

<< I take the cups >> George launches, opening the cabinet above the sink.

Greg looks at them, a little surprised and a little moved. They have always had to fight, he and Margaret, to have them set the table or collaborate with household chores. Here they are, now, elbowing and arguing over who has to deal with what. Greg sits down in his chair, tired and with a heavy heart, and absently wipes a few tears, while they carry on the preparations.

<< Thanks for bringing us here >> says Elisabeth. She sits on his knees and squeezes him tightly, wrapping him with the chemical and fruity scent that must have been sprayed for the umpteenth time before leaving school.

<< It is nice >> says George looking around << I seem to be in my room >> he chuckles, throwing him an arrow for all the times he has scolded him for the excessive disorder.

<< Yes, I know, I should fix >> Greg replies. << I didn't even have time to look for a cleaning lady. This place really needs a feminine touch >> he sighs, which does not go unnoticed by Elisabeth, still perched on her knees.

<< That's fine. There is no need for any woman >> she hurries to say, holding him even more in his arms. << I could be your cleaning lady, if you want >>.

<< I don't think that's the case, Lizzy >> he chuckles. Greg knows how the relationship between his daughter and the sense of order is not so different from that of the son.

<< Is it for mom? Do you think she wouldn't approve? >> the girl says nervous.

<< Oh, Liz, enought! >> George saves him again. << It is possible that you don't understand why it is not the case? >> he says, underlining that 'why' that even Greg catches with a few moments of delay. When the girl understands what the brother is referring, she stiffens and gives the father a look worthy of the mother.

<< It is the woman in the shop? The one who didn't take her eyes off from you for a moment since we entered? >> she accuses him, with a jealousy that not even Margaret has ever shown him in all the years in which they have been together. Greg realizes how pleased he is with this display of possession and how, at the same time, it is absolutely stupid to find it pleasant.

<< Who are you talking about? I'm still embroiled with the closing of a wedding, imagine if I'm going to get into trouble again >> Greg says, although he appreciated the fact that that woman finds him interesting to the point that she has not taken her eyes off from him. << No, honey, I'm done with women >>.

He thought of quelling his daughter's fury with these words and in a certain sense he succeeds. However, Greg sees his sons exchange a strange look that leaves him dumbfounded.

<< What is the important case you are following? >> Elisabeth asks him, completely changing the subject. Quickly she gets up from his knees to go to the kettle which has started to whistle.

<< It is a really cool story! >> George exclaims and, before Greg can give him silence, he tells his sister all the story. Greg sighs, thinking he has made a real mess that won't do any good.

<< ... if dad had not followed his instincts, the scams of that woman would not have come to light. You are a really good detective >> says the son, looking at him with pride. << Since Sherlock collaborates with you, then, you are even more so. Even if he is exceptional, brilliant and is able to deduce the most difficult things starting from nothing, I am sure that it will not be a problem for you to carry out the investigations even without his help >>.

<< Oh-oh, someone took a good crush >> the sister teases.

George turns red like a raspberry and trims a hand on Elisabeth's arm who laughs amused. Greg looks at him in amazement at his reaction. The boy gives him a timid glance and then draws attention to his cup of tea. Greg's stomach closes. He never thought about the possibility that one of his children could be homosexual and, consequently, he did not ask himself how he would react, nor how he would face the problem.

<< Seriously >> says Elisabeth, diverting the father from his thoughts. << I didn't know Rosaline Jackson, but I heard a few things about her and her family >>.

<< What things? >> urges George, quickly out of his embarrassment.

<< Well, let's keep in mind that they are only rumors, but it was known that his parents had economic problems. It was already mentioned at the public meeting proposed by the Fenix masters and Rosaline was quite annoyed by the thing. She retorted to everyone, saying that her parents were working to resolve the matter and that in a short time she could return to show off what she could afford thanks to their money. When I went to the private meeting weeks later, his family's economic situation seemed to have improved. I overheard her talking to her best friend. She told her that her mother had approached a person who would help her solve the problem >>.

A shiver runs through Greg's back. For a strange association of ideas he immediately thought that Moriarty was the one who helped the Jackson to solve their problem.

<< Eliminated the impossible, what remains, however improbable it must be, is the truth >>. Sherlock's voice and his maxim, which on a couple of occasions Greg has heard him say, explode in his head.

"I haven't, however, eliminated the impossible" he thinks, stroking his shaggy chin. "For now I only have the improbable." In fact, Greg cannot imagine that the two spouses ran into the same person who was behind the portal that led their daughter to suicide. "It would be an all too cruel irony."

<< Who do you think this person is, dad? >> George asks him.

<< I don't know, Georgie >> he shakes his head, intimately hoping to have had only an improbable idea.

<< Have you heard other things about him? >> asks the little boy to his sister. She thinks about it a bit and Greg realizes that he is more than interested in what his daughter will say.

<< Not much, actually. Rosaline was saying, even with a lot of pride, that she had suggested to the mother to contact that man. It seems she turned to the senior master, I told you about >> she says, looking at her father.

<< The one with the depraved face? >> George asks in disgust.

<< Yes, him. It seems that this person is the same one that pig had turned to to give life to the Fenix and it seems that Rosaline went to bed with him to get the number >>.

Greg almost drowns with tea. Here is the unlikely truth.

"Jesus, Moriarty! He is also here! ”.

<< Are you sure, Lizzy? >> Greg asks her, astonished. Nothing like this had come out of the investigation and not even from the interrogations.

<< Is it important information? >> asks Elisabeth, shaken by his reaction.

<< Of course, darling >> he answers, trying to mitigate his amazement. << None of the kids questioned about Rosaline's suicide had mentioned it >>.

<< They are afraid >> the girl confesses. << The portal has been dismantled and the masters arrested, but those who took part in the portal, especially those who had become tutors or who were in the running to become one, are scared. They fear that someone could threaten them and for this reason they do not tell anything. I didn't say this because ... well, it's only my fault that Rosaline and Daisy Cooper committed suicide >>.

<< It is absolutely not true, Lizzy >> tries to cheer her up Greg, but the girl shakes her head firmly.

<< Yes, dad. If they hadn't discovered that I am the daughter of a Scotland Yard inspector, they would not have competed and would not have been pushed to commit suicide >> she says and the tears explode. Greg welcomes her into his arms and cradle, feeling the sobs becoming lighter and more sporadic.

<< Solve this case, dad >> she says, sinking her face against his chest. << That man, whoever he is, must pay for all the harm he has done. The Jackson were a family of arrogant wealthy fools and Rosaline was an unbearable spoiled, but even if they made a mistake, it is not a good idea to have been used >>.

<< Dad and if ... >> George hesitates. << And if that man had the Jackson killed because, once they found out that he was involved in the portal that killed his daughter, they decided to report him? >>.

The boy looks at him waiting for his opinion on the hypothesis he has just given shape to. Hypotheses that Greg now sees more than plausible. He merely nods, while the pieces of the puzzle on which he has hit his head so far come together to form a clear picture.

The blood, however, freezes in his veins as soon as he realizes the danger that his children run. Keeping this case open would mean continuing to keep the spotlight on all the guys who took part in Fenix, including Elisabeth. Now that Greg has tell the investigation to his sons , the situation has become even more delicate. Margaret is not entirely wrong in telling him that his work does nothing good for their family.

<< Guys, I don't want you to talk about this investigation with anyone. In fact, I don't want you to talk about it at all >> he tells them more than serious, looking them straight in the eye. << This person the Jackson turned to could be very dangerous and I don't want anyone to know that you know about this investigation. I was wrong to tell you about it, Georgie. Jesus, I made an unforgivable mistake >>.

<< You would not have obtained this information, however >> the boy urges him.

<< You and your sister are more important than the resolution of any case, even of this! >> Greg replies decidedly. << If I get lost you... oh my, I don't even want to think about it >> he says, driving away the tears immediately ready to flow from his eyes. << It is now more important than ever that you stay with your mother. No, listen to me >>, he exclaims interrupting their protests in the bud, << there is nothing to do with the disagreement between me and your mother and not even the decisions of the judge and all these things. I'm talking about your safety and, although you don't like the idea, by carrying out this investigation you will be safer with her than with me >>.

<< And you will be safe, dad? >> Elisabeth asks frightened.

<< Sure, honey >> Greg says, although he can not be sure. When it choose a job like his, the security that his daughter talks about is lost when it pin the badge on the chest.

Elisabeth throws her arms around Greg's neck and squeezes him tightly. George, on the other hand, pale and silent, observes him from his place.

<< Will you tell Sherlock, dad? >> he asks.

Once again his son is asking him about his communications with the consulting detective and Greg, once again, doesn't know what to answer. Of course it would be foolish to keep Sherlock out of this investigation if indeed the person Elisabeth spoke of turned out to be Moriarty and unfortunately there are many possibilities that he is.

<< Sure. I first want to clarify some points that are unclear to me >> he throws it there unconvinced.

<< You could clarify them together >> George replies. << I mean ... Sherlock has put together a lot of information on the portal and who is the person who helped those bastards to put it up. Precisely because it is a delicate and dangerous situation, working with someone like him next would guarantee you extra security, right? >>.

Greg doesn't know what to say. His son's words are more than sensible. They are the same as he would say to someone who was in his place. Greg feels, however, that he wants to proceed on his own and contact the consultant only when he is sure of his hypotheses. He does not want to risk being judged by him as incapable.

<< Is it for that what Mom said? >>.

Elisabeth's words take his breath away. She asks that question without loosing the embrace, indeed, tightening it even more. George looks away from his which must be full of amazement. Greg takes just a few moments to realize the inevitability of the thing and he also understands why they reacted a little earlier to his saying that he no longer wanted to have anything to do with women.

<< You heard us. Sure. The tones lit up and you were behind your bedroom door, Lizzy, eavesdropping >>.

The girl walks away from him, red in the face and full of embarrassment.

<< It was a ... strange conversation >> she says, glancing at his brother in search of support. George, however, keeps his eyes down on his now cold cup of tea.

<< A conversation without rhyme or reason >> Greg sighs, passing his hand over his face. << Your mother took a crab. There has never been anything between me and Sherlock, if not a collaboration for the resolution of cases >> he says in turn, embarrassed by the topic he is facing with his children.

<< Of course, you're not gay >> Elisabeth replies.

<< You say it as if it were wrong >> George whispers, barely looking up at his sister. << It's not wrong, on the other hand >> he adds, barely glancing at his father before looking away.

<< No, there is nothing wrong >> agrees Greg, his voice broken by emotion. << It's just that things are not like your mother imagined them, that's all >>.

<< So why don't you contact him immediately to update him? You have nothing to prove to anyone or even yourself >> George urges him.

Greg thinks about it. He hadn't seen it from this perspective. Is it really possible that his qualms about contacting Sherlock were influenced by what Margaret told him? Is it possible that his incapacity in wanting to prove to himself that he doesn't need him and being able to do it alone, is a cover for the embarrassment he still feels in the face of the accusations made by his wife?

<< You're right >> Greg says, smiling to his young man. << I will immediately make Sherlock aware of these new developments >>.

George smiles and nods convinced. Perhaps the two of them should speak, from man to man, and perhaps they should deal with delicate subjects like this just ended. Greg, however, feels he is not ready yet. Paradoxically, his son, much younger and inexperienced than life, could be. Greg, on the other hand, needs time, to speak with another adult who may have had similar experiences and he need a beer. Maybe even two.

That improvised tea ends, all things considered, with such joy. The need to let go of the tension was strong for all three of them and they did well to do it with a big pillow fight. That game, always forbidden by Margaret and relegated to just the pre-bedtime moments when they were younger and at the perimeter of their beds, has been extended to the whole house and has allowed them to rediscover the pleasure of being together, even if for a short time. Stolen moments from the investigations, even if it would be more correct to say that the investigations take over these pleasant moments.

Greg takes the boys back to their mother's house and it is painful to separate, although both he and his children do everything to not show it. It is already seven in the afternoon when he returns to the police station. A great movement animates Dimmock's office and the agents of his team.

<< Hey, what happened? >> Greg asks to the colleague, always impeccable in his clear suit complete with a tie well tied around his neck.

<< Didn't you know? A building exploded half an hour ago in Regens Garden. Too many things have exploded lately, don't you think? >> he asks, referring to the well-known game designed by Moriarty against Sherlock and also them.

<< Arson or ... >>.

<< Gas leak >> the inspector anticipates. << I have just returned from the inspection. The police are more than sure, but I am still waiting for their report to close the case. Six people died, Greg >> Dimmock tells him, putting the package he just assembled containing the data of the victims in his hand. Greg flips through it, more out of duty than because he wants to, and his heart stops for a moment when he turns the third page.

<< Did you know her? >> Dimmock asks, peeking at the photo.

<< Eleonor Marshall >> Greg nods, his body pervaded by cold chills. << She was Susan Jackson's secretary >>.

<< The mother of the girl who committed suicide a few weeks ago? >> he asks him and Greg nods. << Wow, what a coincidence >> he adds and Greg knows that the universe really isn't that lazy. << By the way, I know you went to Jackson's insurance agency today. Did you happen to meet her? >>.

Greg looks him in the eye and at that moment he understands what his next moves must be.

<< No. Actually I didn't find anyone and I couldn't get a spider out of the hole >> he lies.

<< Donovan doesn't seem happy at all about your decision to continue the investigation >> chuckles Dimmock. << You really can drive that woman crazy, Greg >>.

Lestrade joins the unconvinced laughter. He sees Sally sitting at her desk, intent on writing on the computer.

<< Then I'll make her happy by announcing that I decided to close the case >> Greg says, without taking his eyes off her.

<< Really? What convinced you? >> asks the inspector.

"The massacre just taken to punish the one who put me on the right track" would like to respond and instead shrugs.

<< I took a blunder. I thought there was more behind what seemed like a murder - suicide and instead it is just what it seems >>.

<< It also happens to the best >> says the colleague, giving him a pat on the back.

Greg leave Dimmock in trouble and walk briskly to his office. If he wanted further confirmation of the presence of Moriarty and his henchmen in that story he obtained it. He has no idea how they could have found out about the conversation he had with that woman. Greg cannot know if there were bedbugs in the room or if the mole is hiding there, at Scotland Yard.

He only knows that he will do better to keep what he has discovered to himself and that he will have to carry out the investigation on his own. Greg cannot trust anyone and he does not want to jeopardize the lives of his colleagues, not until he has certainties.

A new message reaches his cellphone. He takes it and finds Sherlock's name on the screen again. Sherlock sent him 10 messages, all with the same growing tone and the same requests for clarification on what is happening. Greg sighs, remembering what he promised his children. He opens the text box to reply, but his finger stops in mid-air.

"Not now," he says, putting his cell phone back in his pocket and getting ready to get everything he needs to act on his own.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

<< Hey, chief, are you planning on sleeping here? >>.

Donovan peeks into Greg's office after knocking on the door. Ever since he returned to Scotland Yard and he staied in his office, the woman has done nothing but glance at him with a regularity that would have been almost possible to time. Greg found her way of doing unnerving and when he saw her get up and with her confident and sinuous gait reaching him, he understood that it was better to save the latest documents and put on an even more tired face than he already has.

<< No, I'm going to go >> he says, realizing that it's already past nine.

<< I heard you decided to close the Jackson case >> she says with a note of satisfaction in her voice. Always the usual Dimmock, completely unable to keep anything for himself. << What convinced you to change your mind? >> Sally asks him, leaning on the door jamb.

<< It was not your words, if this is what you want to be told >> Greg precise, knowing it well by now. << I realized that I would only waste time. There is no more land to dig into. Tomorrow I will deliver the report to the superintendent and... end of the games >>.

<< Oh, here there are always many games to do >> she chuckles, approaching his desk.

<< Not for me, at least for a couple of days. I need a break >> he says yawning loudly.

<< I think it's the right thing to do >> Donovan nods. << You are going through a period full of tensions and the suicide of the Jackson's daughter I think has given you the coup de grace. It is a relatively peaceful time here, suitable for unplugging. Stay with your children for a while, I think you need them and them need you >>.

Sally smiles at him and she also seems sincere to him. What George told him in the car about her possible interest in him comes back to his minde and Greg feels the need to get out of there.

<< Yes, you are right >> he grants her, and here is the victorious smile making his way on her lips, which leaves, however, the place for a serious expression. << I ... am of the idea that you don't deserve what is happening to you >> she says embarrassed. << The end of a relationship is never easy and if you are also accused unjustly, then ... >>.

<< Why are you telling me these things? >> Greg asks annoyed. He does not want the pity of a woman who is a lover of a married man.

<< Because that's what I think and I wanted you to know >> she replies, shrugging. << It was not my intention to be inappropriate >> adds embarrassed.

<< But you have been it >> retorts, ruthless, Greg.

<< I apologize, chief >> she says sincerely. << Well, then, good evening and enjoy these days off >> she wishes him, leaving the office. The detective wonders if it was not too aggressive with her, but it takes a moment to shake off the problem.

Greg puts on his jacket, takes the folder in which he has placed the documents that will be useful for continuing the investigation and leaves the office.

<< Do you go away, chief? >> Andrew Jordan asks him.

<< Yes, I would say that I'm done here >> he says, amazed to find him still there.

<< I didn't dare disturb you, I saw you so taken from work, but I wanted to ask you if you found anomalies in my relationship after the visit to the Jackson insurance agency >>.

Greg had totally immersed himself in recovering documents and evidence, that it seems that days have passed since he went to the insurance agency instead of a few hours.

<< I was unable to enter that agency >> he is also lying. << After rereading all the reports that were delivered to me on this case, including yours, I realized that, actually, there was nothing to verify. Tomorrow I will deliver the report to the superintendent and close the case >>.

<< Oh >> the agent exclaims in surprise. << I thought I understood that you had a new track and many doubts and that you was willing to carry on the investigations >>.

The boy insists, keeping him blocked a few steps from his office and many others from the front door of the police station. Greg would like to shout at him not to break and accept the possibility that people can change their mind. The boy, however, has a genuine expression of amazement on his face, capable of deflating the anger that animates him.

<< When I have something on my mind I stay on it until I solve it, Jordan, I'm like this. And since I don't have anyone waiting for me at home, I can allow myself to have doubts and spend time constructively until I realize that I'm just losing it >> he says with a smile. The boy laughs openly, however, and Greg thinks he should do it more often. He finds it too serious and perfect, excellent quality at work, but that wears out human relationships.

<< I will be happy to be involved in the resolution of these problems, if you deem it appropriate >> he says, going back serious. Then Jordan lowers his eyes and seems to hesitate for a few moments before speaking. << I also have no one waiting for me at home and I thought I would have a beer in the pub opposite. If you feel like joining me >> he adds embarrassed.

Greg is speechless. They are the only ones left in the murder session open space and this makes him even more uncomfortable. Even if a beer would fit, he doesn't really want to drink it in the company of this boy. A fragment of the recently recovered memory of the evening spent with Jonathan in his university days comes back to him. Greg chases him away, shaking his head energetically.

<< Sorry, I didn't mean to be inappropriate >> says Jordan, looking down.

<< No, that's not why >> Greg says, maybe a little too quickly. The boy looks up and Greg, for a moment, sees the embarrassed expression of his son on that face. << It's that I'm damned tired >> he snorts, thinking he is falling from the pan to the embers. << There would be a beer, but I think it is better that I throw me in bed >> adds, biting his tongue immediately, fearing that this sentence can be interpreted ambiguously.

<< It will mean that I will dare next time >> Jordan says and Greg is afraid of having encouraged him. << I wish you a good evening, Inspector >> greets him, by returning to his post.

If before, in front of Donovan, Greg could not wait to get out of his office, now, after Jordan's narrow-minded invitation, Greg walks at an even faster pace the meters that separate him from the main command door.

Once on the street Greg takes a deep breath and finds himself laughing alone like an idiot. Jordan has been in charge of his team for a few months and has somehow always found him attached to his ribs. He cannot imagine that behind what seemed to him the desire to learn there is 'other'.

"Oh, Jesus, what a situation!" Greg thinks, shaking his head. "See what happened to me that I am over forty years old."

<< It is a pleasure to see you so cheerful, Inspector Lestrade >>.

The voice behind him catches Greg off guard. He turns abruptly towards the woman standing less than a meter from him.

<< You are the secretary of Mycroft Holmes >> he says amazed to see her there.

<< Anthea >> she nods. << It is much easier if you use my name >>.

<< And to what do I have the honor of meeting you 'casually' here in front of Scotland Yard, Anthea? >> Greg asks, looking around for the black car from which it was surely come out.

<< An invitation to dinner >> she replies, approaching a few steps.

<< You and I? >> he asks mischievously and the girl laughs, which is not exactly nice to do. Those who practice the Holmes, apparently, let themselves be infected by their ways. He must remember to warn John.

<< Unfortunatelly no >> she sighs with a theatrically sad expression. << I'm just a messenger >>.

<< Well, then tell the sender that I have other commitments for tonight, thanks >> he says, turning the heels, ready to leave it there without adding anything else. The woman, however, moves quickly to his side, takes him by the arm and holds him close to her.

<< I advise you to accept the invitation >> she says with the same friendly tone and that smile on her lips. Greg can't say she's hurting him by blocking him like that, but she's still too tight a hold.

<< Is it a threat? >> he asks her, wrapped in the good scent of her.

<< It is not in the style of my chief nor in mine >> she says. << However, I think it may be of your interest to hear what he has to say >> she informs him, suddenly becoming serious. Greg senses that something may have gone wrong with the investigations that Sherlock and John have conducted.

<< So where are we going? >> he asks and feels the grip on his arm loosen.

<< I parked across the street, come >> she invites him pulling just by the arm. They reach the car and Greg go ahead before Anthea can even make the gesture of opening the passenger side door. Greg sees her smile and he doesn't care what she thinks of him.

"Also because if you knew what I think of your boss who doesn't even spend to open the door himself and get out of the car ...".

<< Where are we going? >> he asks.

<< In a safe place >> replies the woman. That expression is out of tune to the inspector, convinced that for someone like Mycroft Holmes all the places in the world are safe.

<< It is an effect not to see you with your gaze perpetually turned to your cellphone >> he says and the woman just smiles at him, making the attempt to conversation miserably fail. << I hope he pay you more than handsomely >> he continues, determined not to spend the journey in the heaviest of silence.

<< I'm not complaining >>.

<< Of this I had no doubts >> retorts Greg. << It must not be easy to deal with Mycroft Holmes >>.

<< I think that not even dealing with Sherlock is. It seems to me, however, Inspector, that it is not a problem for you >>.

That smile that curves Anthea's lips is so similar to that of her chief. George had said that working with Sherlock, in his opinion, he had become an even better detective and Greg wonders, once again, how far dating particular people like the Holmes can bring about change so as to start taking their attitudes. It is normal for people who hang out with each other to influence each other. Greg himself made some of Margaret's own idioms and attitudes in those ten years of marriage and, after thinking about it, she too began to puff as he usually does.

<< We tame each other, don't you think? >> Greg says, taking her by surprise, which fills him with pride.

<< I do not understand what you refers to >> she says, just taking her eyes off the road.

<< When you live in close contact with someone you end up taming each other. The same idioms are used, the same cadence, the same posture, the same attitudes. You are no longer as before, after meeting the other. We leave something of ours and the other leaves us something of his >>.

<< An interesting concept >> says the woman, who now seems to consider him noteworthy.

<< Sometimes, when I shout a little more than usual, my children tell me that I am 'mamming' >> he chuckles. << When you first smiled at me you seemed so similar to your boss >>.

The woman laughs cheerfully amused by his words.

<< And what have you taken from Sherlock in all these years? >> she asks.

<< A lot of abdominal pains >> he answers, making her laugh again. He begins to wonder if she's not openly making fun of him.

<< Then, you also has something in common with my chief >> she says, approaching. << We have arrived >>.

Greg did not expect them to arrive on the spot so early. When, nearly six years earlier, this same woman had picked him up from Scotland yard to take him to her chief in one of their black cars, they had traveled for hours. This time, however, they stopped in front of the 'The red lion' pub in Derby gate.

<< I didn't imagine such a chaotic place >> Greg says, following her inside the pub.

<< If you want to hide something, detective, you have to put it in plain view >> she says, taking him by the hand. Anthea leads him, making her way among the many patrons, to the table farthest from the entrance. Greg recognizes Mycroft sitting on his back in the only company of his inevitable pearl gray suit.

<< Welcome, Gregory >> Mycroft welcomes him. He does not stand up, but invites Greg to take a seat on the side of the table closest to the wall. Anthea sits opposite him. << I allowed myself to order some brandy >> Mycroft says, pouring him a finger of liquor.

<< Why did you bring me here? >> he asks him, accepting the offered chalice.

<< Why didn't you reply to my brother's messages? >> Mycroft asks in turn.

<< Oh my! And you put all this staging together because I ignored your brother's messages? >> Greg asks him amazed. << We must be well in trouble if we need a safe place to talk about this >>.

<< Indeed it is so, Gregory. You are in bigger trouble than you think >>.

The severe gaze with which Mycroft observes him increases Greg nervousness and at the same time his curiosity. He decides to take a sip of brandy to relax his nerves.

<< What kind of trouble? >>.

<< I think you found out >> Mycroft replies, looking him in the eye. A shiver runs through the detective's back. Sherlock who is alert for his persistence in not answering, Mycroft who has him picked up: there can only be Moriarty behind this story.

<< Then I saw right >>.

<< Sure. I did not imagine you still had doubts >> Mycroft says amazed.

<< I have not had the opportunity to investigate thoroughly the man to whom the Jackson have turned >> he admits, starting to feel warm.

<< What stopped you? >>.

<< Don't play with me, I know that you know >> he burst out, annoyed by this hypocritical questioning. Mycroft's lips stretch in that annoying smile that he would like to take away with his fists.

Holmes places the glass on the table and puts his hands in front of it.

<< Sherlock would not be happy with what I am going to tell you, but, given the circumstances, I think it is useless to keep you in the dark about how much it weighs on you. You are in danger, Gregory >> he says seriously.

<< Mycroft I am a detective, it is normal that I am in danger >> Greg replies, annoyed by this theatricality inherent in every gesture. << I understood it from the moment I smelled there was that madman in this story and I confirmed it with the death of the Jackson secretary >>.

<< I'm afraid you're misunderstanding me >> Mycroft interrupts him with another drawn smile. << You are not in danger for having discovered the presence of that man in the affairs of that family too. You have been for long before >>.

Greg doesn't understand where Mycroft wants to says. He feels confused, which he doesn't like at all and takes another sip of brandy, in the hope that it will help him not to explode in this crowded place.

<< If I understand correctly you are telling me that I am in danger. That I am in danger and also for quite a while. And that you know that I am in danger and that your brother also knows and, moreover, does not want me to know. Ultimately I, the person concerned, am the only one who does not know what the danger is running >> he says raising his voice. Mycroft invites him to keep the tone low with a gesture of the hand and imperceptibly turning his head to look at who is around them. The same gesture that his mother used to do and that Greg couldn't stand in her, let alone find it in this government man.

<< What is the danger? >> he asks abruptly, willing to give a damn about the possibility that they hear them. Mycroft sighs and, once again, Greg sees in him the exasperation of his mother.

<< That man targeted you >> he says, giving him a look that perhaps freezes him more than his words. Greg shakes his head in disbelief. He is silent, staring at an unspecified point on the table. He then seems to remember the glass in his hand and empty it of its contents.

<< Why would someone like James Moriarty have targeted me? >>.

Mycroft sighs and seems to waver, unsure of what to say and this is even stranger than all the whole speech.

<< Why are you important to my brother, Greg >>.

The information strikes the detective a lot. He grabs the bottle and pours himself other brandy, sending it down in one sip.

<< And what does this mean? >> he asks, struggling to putting off Margaret's face and that mixture of disgust and anger with which she looked at him while telling him her unfounded suspicions.

<< The Napoleon of crime, as Sherlock likes to call him, has decided, as you know, to 'burn my brother's heart'. You are one of the people whose death would cause Sherlock's heart to burn >>.

<< Me? >> Greg chuckles nervously. << I can understand if something happened to John or ... yes, even to you, but why me? >>.

<< I thought I told you already ... >>.

<< Is it because of the story of the agreement between us and because of Sherlock seeing me as a better brother than you? >> asks him amazed.

<< Exactly >>.

<< Jesus >> Greg exclaims, shaking his head. << Do you realize that Margaret has done nothing but tell me, in these five years, that 'that strange guy' would get me into trouble sooner or later? And Donovan too >> he adds, passing his hand over his face.

<< She has done nothing but tell me all the time that he would make me feel bad being ask his help and you now confirm to me that because of him a mad criminal is ready to kill me to spite him >> Greg growls, squeezing the glass so tightly that he shatters it. A sliver of glass remains stuck in his finger, which begins to bleed profusely.

<< Oh my God >> exclaim Mycroft and Anthea in unison. The woman leans towards him ready to help him but Greg moves away.

<< I'm not a toy, Myc! >> he says between his teeth, tearing the splinter from his finger << Neither for Moriarty, nor for Sherlock and not even for you! >> he adds, dabbing his finger with a napkin. << I have two children to raise, do you realize that? Two children who are already living in a bad situation and who just need to be told that their father was killed to spite the consulting detective. I'm not there, Mycroft! >> shouts. << Is this the price I have to pay for trusting him? For saving him, how often do you repeat to me? Of course it is a great burden to be his friend >>.

Greg is furious. With Sherlock and with himself. He feels that once again he has been betrayed by a person who, he must admit, is important to him.

The throbbing pain caused by the wound, however, contrasts with the suffering of the soul, allowing him to let go of that first reaction to the news received and observe the facts better. Greg realizes that Sherlock, after all, can't do anything about it. That madman has decided to make him suffer and take it out on the people he cares about, who don't have to be that many. One of these has the honor of being him and it even pleases him. In the masochistic corner of himself, Greg thinking that Sherlock would suffer from his death makes him feel strangely important and elated. The fact remains that he cannot afford to be used that way. He cannot for his children and for himself.

<< Sorry >> he says, meeting Mycroft's impassive gaze. << I ... I realize that it is not your brother's fault nor yours >>.

<< You are right instead >> says Mycroft. << My brother and I have always found ourselves exposed to the danger of being targeted by people ... not recommended. That's why I've always invited Sherlock not to get involved. Not to have ... friends >> he specify, by barely pronouncing that last word.

<< This, however, is not fair >> retorts Greg struck by his words. << No, I don't find it right that he should give up friendship, relationships >>.

<< As you said, however, you risk paying a very high price for being his friends. You are realizing it on your skin, Gregory. The last thing my brother would like and that I would also like ... >>, he adds looking away, << and that something happened to you. It is not nice to think that you are the cause of the death of another human being. If this human being, then, we consider him friend is even more difficult >>.

Silence falls on Mycroft's words. The idea that he might be a friend to this iceman too leaves a strange feeling on Greg.

<< Sherlock ... he didn't want me to know >>.

<< No >> Mycroft nods, taking the brandy glass back in his hand. << He was afraid that you could tell him what you said to me a little while ago. These are words that hurt and he is sensitive. It always has been >> Mycroft says, taking a sip. Greg swallows embarrassed and it would be very convenient for him to wet his lips in turn with that excellent liqueur. << Sherlock says he has the situation under control and, in his defense, I can say that it is true. From the moment that madman threatened him, he kept his eyes open and I did it too >>.

<< Now, however, things seem to have changed >> senses Greg and Mycroft nods, looking away. << Am I in such danger, Myc? >> Greg asks him, leaning towards him. Holmes meets his gaze and puts the glass down once more.

<< Watch your back, Gregory, not from strangers, but from those close to you >> he says seriously.

<< What do you mean? >> asks him amazed.

<< I want to say that Moriarty has eyes and ears everywhere >> he says, keeping his eyes fixed on him. << It is possible that you have already met the killer who has been entrusted with the task of ending your life. It's possible that you see it every day. That you work with it, elbow to elbow. But you had already guessed this >> he says, smiling satisfied and Greg feels a bit of embarrassment in front of his admiration.

<< I ... I decided to carry out the investigation from me more than anything else in order not to endanger my men >> he admits. << I thought about the possibility of a mole, but not that it could be among them >> he says and experiences another deep feeling of betrayal to that thought.

<< How much can you say you know the people you work with? >> Mycroft asks him, taking him unprepared. Greg looks away from him, embarrassed to appear so unwary. << Close this case, Gregory. Close it for real >> he says, giving him a look that doesn't allow replies. << Let my brother know what you have discovered and let him carry it on, as he is already doing, on the other hand >>.

<< This will save me? >> Greg challenges him, finding his request absurd.

<< It will show you less. As you said yourself, you have two children to raise >>.

<< I will be exposed anyway, Mycroft, whether I closes the case, or that I continues with the investigations >> he replies, which makes the iceman laugh out loud.

<< You are as stubborn as Sherlock, you know? >> he says and puts his hand on his shoulder. << I know that, however, you know how to be more reasonable and you know how to recognize good advice >> he smiles at him. A sincere smile, like the light but firm grip of his hand on his shoulder.

Greg shakes his head dejectedly. He runs his healthy hand over his tired face, thinking that maybe he should really let it go. What can he, a simple Scotland Yard inspector, do against a criminal whose eyes and ears are everywhere.

<< Oh Jesus! >> exclaims, clapping his hand on the table, which leaves Mycroft and Anthea stunned. << If that killer has been keeping an eye on me for some time, then he will have filled my office, my house, the apartment in which I settled, with bedbugs and maybe even cameras, isn't it so? >> he nervous question and the heart almost stops when Mycroft nods. << Oh god no >> he says, bringing his healthy hand to his hair. << Oh, fuck, no! >> repeats in panic. << I told the children about the case >> he says, grasping Mycroft's wrist forcefully. << It was Elisabeth who told me that Rosaline had procured the name of the person who helped the master to create the portal to her mother. The killer must have heard us and they... oh my! I putted my sons in danger >> Greg says, feeling the air missing, his heart pounding and his skin crawling.

<< They are safe, Gregory >> Mycroft tells him, placing his hand on that of him who squeezes his wrist. << I putted some of my trusted men behind your children and even behind your ex-wife >> he says and his words manage to thin the panic. << Moriarty doesn't care about the portal, not even to be associated with what happened to the Jackson. Your children are still safe.

You are the only one who he wants and will give the order to kill you only when he thinks that the most opportune moment has come >>.

The tension drops to the point that dizziness takes over. It is certainly not pleasant to know that he has such a sword of Damocles on his head, but to feel that his children and Margaret are protected by this powerful man also calms Greg.

<< I guess, then, that your brother has asked you to put someone on me too >> he asks, still feeling the fear make his way to bites inside him. Mycroft shakes his hand a little more and smiles at him with a sweetness that he would never have thought of seeing on the face of a man like him.

<< I have someone fixed on you from the moment you and my brother met, Greg >>.

Until a moment before this statement would have made Greg feel prey to a hyper control capable of suffocating him. Now, however, he is grateful to this man for his need to manage everything.

<< I ... I don't know what to say >> Greg embarrassed mumbles.

<< Let me offer you dinner. It is late, it was a heavy day and here they prepare an excellent steak >>.

Greg's stomach growls and realizes that he hasn't eat properly since lunch with Molly Hooper. Maybe it's a way to buy his trust, or to keep him good. Right now he doesn't want to think about it.

<< I grant you >> Greg says.

<< Although perhaps it would be better to accompany you to the emergency room >> says Mycroft, who seems to have noticed only now the blood stain that colors almost all of the handkerchief with which he wrapped his injured finger.

<< No, it's just a small cut >> Greg says. << I will ask for a plaster and we will not think about it anymore >>.

<< So, gentlemen, I would say that the time has come to order >> says Anthea, raising a hand to draw the attention of one of the waitresses.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Greg looks at the ceiling. He got up early this morning and arrived at Scotland Yard half an hour before the superintendent. He drafted the report on the Jackson case and handed it over, asking for permission to take two days off.

Now Greg is here, on the bed, dressed only in boxer shorts, after having settled home and taken a long hot shower, wondering if it is appropriate to follow Mycroft's advice and let Sherlock carry out the investigations.

You got valuable information, Greg, congratulations.

I will update you on developments. SH

The message that Sherlock sent him in response to his, countless and very long ones, in which he exposed what he discovered and his hypotheses, has reread it several times. An answer that it is not create by Sherlock, just think of the fact that he call him with his name. He seems to want to keep him good, make him understand that it is better to step aside for his own good.

Greg chuckles running his hand over his face. He called this behavior 'sense of guilt', although the consultant wouldn't admit it even under torture.

I've never seen him so nervous, Greg.

Follow Mycroft's advice and leave it to him.

The situation is very delicate and I would not like you to get involved

"As if I were not already involved " Greg snorts at the words written by John in the reply to what he sent him, where he thanked him for helping Sherlock to formulate a sentence like that.

Greg sits on the bed, messing his hair. That's exactly the point. He is still caught up in all this mess. It is not enough to just hand over the investigation to Sherlock to take off the killer, who points him like a hunting dog with prey,

"Who the hell will it be?" he has been wondering since Mycroft advised him to look over anyone from the previous evening, especially those closest to him.

The first person that came to his mind was Donovan. The agent insisted far too much on the fact that it was absurd to keep the case open, a concept that reiterated on every occasion when they found themselves breathing the same air.

Anderson comes soon after, also him skeptical of his decision. He did not insist too much, but the fact that he has a clandestine relationship with Sally makes Greg think that they might even be complicit.

When Greg handed the documentation over to his chief, this says 'Finally you close this case!', which made Greg's antennas stand upright. He saw an expression of victory on the superintendent's face which led him to add him to the list of suspects.

In the short time Greg spent at the police station to prepare the report and deliver it, it seemed to him that all Scotland Yarde had had something to say about the closure of this case.

"I'm getting paranoid," Greg thinks, rubbing his eyes, tired of too many hours of sleep lost. However, he cannot sleep, let alone relax. With a sword of Damocles of that caliber over his head he would challenge anyone to do it. And then there is another thing that he does not like at all and that has matured following the discussion with Mycroft. Somehow, his advice to actually close the case has moved him to be considered unable to do his job. Too many times his colleagues have told him that they could very well resolve the case without the help of the consultant and Greg did not listen to them, convinced of how important it was, more than their pride, to obtain valid results, and who cares about whom solve the matter. Now, however, he is reasoning exactly like them and does not know if they are the effects of mistrust, or if he is not, much more simply, also developing an obsession with this case.

Greg lights a cigarette and, more to divert attention than anything else, opens the folder in which he placed, the night before, all the documentation relating to the Fenix, the Jackson case and his notes, documents, the reports about each single step of Moriarty's sick game, marked by explosions and how much about that madman he has managed to discover.

Sherlock had given him a detailed account of this 'Napoleon of crime', as he likes to call it, and Greg cannot help admitting that he is genuinely afraid of him. A man with a bright mind, perhaps not on a par with Sherlock, but still above average, who has invented a consultancy activity aimed at those who want to perpetrate successfully crimes.

Greg can imagine them, these criminals, who plan the blow of the century but do not know how to get out of an unclear point that could lead them to jail. They contacting Moriarty, like he usually turns to Sherlock. They submit the project to him and look forward to his positive judgment.

"It's crazy" Greg thinks, passing his hand over his tired face. What could be the typical clients of such a consultant? If he try to compare, the people who turn to Sherlock have complicated cases in their hands that are potentially interesting for the consultant, who can only be attracted to unusual situations. So, Moriarty could, in the same way, accept only interesting criminal projects and he doesn't matter who they come from. During that insane game, Greg had the opportunity to see a rundown of Moriarty's typical customers and had previously met Jefferson Hope, the serial killer taxi driver.

On balance, there may also be that Moriarty has even more customers than Sherlock. Crime still appears to yield far more than crime resolution. Some may have innovative projects, such as the creator of the Fenix portal, others, however, ask Moriarty for help only to get rid of someone who has become uncomfortable, such as Mrs. Jackson, for example. Of course this is not such an exceptional case, at least as far as he has discovered so far, but the criminal could have accepted the assignment attracted by Sherlock's interest on the Fenix portal.

It is the only possible explanation, since the two spouses were, on balance, small fish in the sea of sharks ready to submit far more interesting projects to Moriarty.

"I am a small fish, too," Greg reflects, grabbing the cigarette with his index finger and thumb. He brings his hand to cover his eyes, spitting out a cloud of smoke. He still cannot understand the fact that this mad criminal would not have given him the slightest glance if he had not been Sherlock Holmes' 'case pusher'.

"I should have let you incriminate for possession of drugs and put you in jail, damn it" he thinks, immediately canceling this ugly image out of his mind. "So I risk becoming like him" he shakes his head, taking the last puff from the cigarette now in the filter.

Greg wants to print himself in the head that Sherlock is not guilty and from here to try to understand who his murder was commissioned from.

He inserts the USB stick into the laptop and scrolls through the files related to his colleagues that he collected quickly this morning. He has read them over and over again and finds nothing out of place.

“This could be just a clue. A too perfect person could be a very good suspect, ” Greg reflects, scrolling through the curricula of Dimmock and a couple of agents, including Jordan, all with excellent grades, excellent references, excellent families behind them.

Greg is more confused than ever. Distrusting his men makes him uncomfortable. He tries to distract himself, returning to focus on the documents relating to the Jackson spouses and among the files taken from the agency's PC the inconsistencies present on Mrs. Jackson's current account jump to his eye. The large sums of money withdrawn coincide with the dates shown on her personal agenda, a sign that they were intended for blackmailers. When this ritual is interrupted, transfers of a certain size appear on the list of bank account movements, which occurred regularly in the four months before Rosaline's suicide in favor of two non-profit associations. The last of these transfers was the day before the tragedy that saw Ms. Jackson shoot her husband and then turn the weapon towards herself.

Greg looks for the names of the associations on google and finds that they have been closed because they have exhausted their mission.

"This is somewhat interesting," says Sherlock's voice in his head, snatching a smile from him. Greg would like to make him aware of these things, but he would risk seeing Anthea or even Mycroft fall into his house with new warnings, and then he is convinced that the consultant has already discovered these things. Moriarty will surely hide behind the associations, who used them as a screen to obtain payment for his services.

"By the way" is said returning to google. “Somewhere the corpses of those two blackmailers must have been found. I'm curious to understand what happened to them. "

Greg types Gregson and McManara's names into the searcher, but get no results. It seems that all he has to do is go to the Bart's morgue.

"I should make it in time for lunch," he says, thinking that another invitation to the beautiful pathologist will not hurt.

Greg slingshot in the shower and for the first time in months, if not years, he prepare himself for a date. The suit he has decided to wear perhaps smells a little too much of mothball and is a little tight on his hips, a sign that his unruly life has given him a few extra pounds. Greg sprays a little more cologne and leave the house for the car.

He arrives at the Bart's also quite quickly, calculating the traffic that makes the streets impractical at this hour.

Greg feels himself a little nervous at the idea of seeing Molly again so early and begins to think that it is an exaggeration to offer her lunch together today.

"I would not like to give her the idea of being a stalker," he thinks, remembering how the girl has already been scalded by a rather "particular" boyfriend and could be more alert than usual with men trying to approach her.

"Does that mean you're trying with her?" John asks, making his way through his thoughts. Greg doesn't know what to answer this question. He pulled an old dress out of mothball and got ready as he was going to a wedding, something will mean.

Greg takes the elevator and the air starts to miss him, when the doors close and this goes down.

"Holy God, I can be rusted to the point of taking it so badly?" he asks and almost shouts when the doors open on the entrance to the morgue. Eveline, the old secretary of this place of death, welcomes him with a smile.

<< We are elegant, inspector >> she chirps, arranging the glasses better on the nose, secured to the neck by a candy pink chain. The discomfort increases and Greg smiles at her.

<< Is Molly here? >> he asks her and the woman smiles, giving the idea of knowing his intentions.

<< As always. You can find her in her office >> she says, pointing to the corridor. The short journey appears much longer and each step is heavy as if he had lead shoes on his feet.

<< Oh, hi Greg >> the girl greets him, who seems really happy to see him. Molly scrutinizes him from head to toe and her cheeks light up, which generates great satisfaction in the detective.

<< How can I help you today? >> she asks and although he has come this far without a precise plan, now Greg knows what he has to do and realizes that he must be directed with that invitation.

<< Actually I'm not here for work >> he says, trying to find the boldness of the past.

<< So for what? >> she asks, blushing even more evidently.

<< Well, I had some errands to do around here and since it's almost lunchtime I said to myself 'Let's go and see if Molly is on duty and wants to keep me company'. Did I have bad idea? >> he asks innocent.

<< Oh, no, no, not at all. I was just about to go to lunch >> she says, saving in a hurry the document she has on screen to stand up. << Give me time to change me >>.

<< Take your time >> he says, feeling a bit like a worm for the way in which in a certain sense he is taking advantage of her. As soon as she leaves, in fact, Greg approaches the door to make sure that she has entered the dressing room. Quick then goes to the desk and recalls the recent autopsies from the archive.

<< Here they are! >> he exclaims, inserting the USB stick into the PC on which he uploads the documentation relating to the autopsies of Gregson and McManara. He also adds the very recent one by Eleonore Marchall. Greg retrieve the key, close the folders and rush to the elevator.

Eveline welcomes him with a smile that widens even more when she sees Molly come out of the dressing room, wrapped in a beautiful dress that certainly could not be hidden under the white coat.

"Very well. Thanks to this old gossip woman, everyone at the Bart's will know about the exciting love story between the detective and the pathologist, "he thinks, feeling very uncomfortable. He can imagine now how Sherlock and John can feel about gossip about them.

"It could also be that they don't care about what people say," he thinks, however, as they enter the elevator. "Would that be a problem for me?"

Greg turns his gaze to Molly who smiles at him sweetly and realizes that, after all, there is nothing wrong with what they are doing.

"After all, it's just a lunch," he thinks, knowing full well that even the worst tragedies started with the usual and 'trivial' situations.

They enter in the same bar without exchanging a word on the way. They sit at the same table and this time Greg ventures to get a beer to accompany the meal.

<< So, what will you do in these two days of rest? >> she asks him. She seems to be more comfortable today.

<< I rest >> he says and both laugh.

<< Wise idea >> she nods. << You seemed determined to keep the case open yesterday. What made you change your mind? >>.

Greg's stomach closes and the state of alert in which he feels from the previous evening assails him. This woman dated Moriarty for a short time. The criminal had approached her as a friend of the consultant with the sole purpose of being able to meet him in person. A petty move, which leads Greg to think, however, of the possibility that it was not just a tactic of that madman against the girl. Molly could be involved into the Moriarty shady dealings, collaborate with him, perhaps even to be Moriarty's lover, who lends herself to play the role of the naive enamored of the unattainable consulting detective. Of course to see her, so scared and shy, it would not be said. If Greg thinks back to his ex-wife, however, it is precisely the unsuspected people who are the most dangerous.

<< I understood that there was nothing to investigate >> he says, shrugging. << It was an unfortunate misfortune >>.

<< Of course it must be terrible to lose a daughter. In that way ... cold and calculated, then >> she shivers.

The waitress interrupts them and brings them the dishes. Greg watches Molly roll the spaghetti holding the fork in an unusual way. He smiles and she barely blushes and the detective thinks it would be a shame if she really were an accomplice to that criminal.

<< Molly, can I ask you a question? >> he asks. << You are very free not to answer, of course >> he hurries to say, aware of how every time he speaks to someone he ends up looking like he is subjecting him to interrogation. The girl nods and seems a little tense, which, however, must give the idea of being with every question that is asked. << You have… met Moriarty >> he says and she turns pale. Straighten her back and lower her gaze to the plate.

<< It's not something I'm happy to talk about >> she says seriously and the look that she strikes him is so hard that Greg gives the idea of being at the table with another person.

<< Sorry, I didn't want to embarrass you >> he says, knowing full well that they won't come out of this tension and will spend the rest of the meal in absolute silence. << I think he was a bastard and I'm sorry for the situation in which you found yourself >> he says, struggling to turn his gaze towards her, that is bending over his plate.

"Here's how to play any kind of chance," he sighs.

<< How did you know? >> she asks him, just looking at him. << Sherlock asked his brother to make sure I wasn't involved in that crazy case of the dynamiter and he and his hateful secretary satisfied him >>.

<< I seem to understand, however, that they have not treated you well >>.

The girl snorts, pulling the bangs away from her eyes with a gesture of the head.

<< They asked me a thousand questions about why and how I started dating James >> she says and her gaze hardens at the sound of that name. << They treated me like a criminal, while I ... I'm just the usual stupid who falls for the wrong man >> she says, giving him a stern look.

<< Sorry >> says, knowing that she will do little of his displeasure.

<< You know, I was thinking back to what you confided to me yesterday about the idea that your ex made herself about you and Sherlock >> she says, fiddling with the almost intact food she has on her plate. << In a way, you too found yourself in trouble because of Sherlock. I was used by that bastard and you were left by your wife. How do you feel about this, Greg? >> she asks him and if only he knew this girl to which much more serious danger the consultant exposed him. However, Greg cannot also confide this to her. He doesn't want to endanger her too, though he would like to be able to talk to someone about it. Someone less cold and unreachable than Mycroft Holmes and his secretary.

<< When I realized it I felt a great anger towards him >> he confesses. << Then, however, I thought that Sherlock has no blame. I mean, if some crazy criminals decide to go against him or if a frustrated woman starts to see love affairs where there are none, what can he do? >>.

The girl seems to meditate about his words. She silents for a long moment, staring at a point on the paper tablecloth.

<< I knew you were a good person, Greg. I did not imagine up to this point >> she says, smiling sweetly. << I, on the other hand, apparently are a bad person >> she chuckles and a tear slips to scratch her cheek. << Because I accused Sherlock of many things. I felt a lot of anger >> she says, dropping the sobs. << James on those few occasions when we met, both before and after that I introduced Sherlock to him, he asked me many questions about him. He was very insistent with a lot of questions about Sherlock's private life, to the point that even the doubt had come to me that he was asking me to introduce him to him because he was interested in him and not just out of curiosity. Also because I never ... proposal myself to him >> she says blushing. << But even James hadn't tried. He hadn't even given me the idea of really trying with me. I should have understood and removed him from me, however, I brought him to him, making the figure of the fool >> she says and wipes another tear that escaped her control.

<< Hey, Molly >> Greg says, taking her hand. << Stop blaming yourself. You are not a fool and you have no fault. We are all fools when compared to their intelligence. They are different people and I do not say this in a derogatory sense. It is a fact that they are and they travel on tracks that are incomprehensible to us. You said that Sherlock constantly seduces and even Moriarty does. You may have guessed that something was wrong, but it is not simple to understand it, Molly, and not because you are silly, but because they are ... >>.

<< Monsters >> she concludes for him, severely. << They are monsters, Greg >> she repeats firmly. << They are insensitive, freezing, rational and logical to the point of not having a grain of humanity >>.

Greg realizes how angry her words are. He doesn't know if Molly has had the opportunity to talk to anyone about it. Maybe Mycroft and Anthea even keep an eye on her and have told her not to say a word to anyone about this story. As she said, however, the two of them have this common misfortune to be considered important by the consulting detective.

<< Sherlock is not like that >> Greg says, gently shaking her hand. << I think you are important to him, Molly >> the girl chuckles shaking her head and other tears roll on her cheeks. << Since I know him, I have seen him consider very few people. Three, to be exact: you, John and me. Sherlock doesn't come to you just because it suits you, Molly. He is looking for you because your opinion is worthy of note. You are the best in your field, otherwise it wouldn't explain how you could be in charge of an entire department at your young age >> he says, realizing this for the first time. << Anderson also has excellent qualifications and is intelligent. On average intelligent, of course, and he's been in charge of scientific departement for years, but, punctually, Sherlock covers him with misery, he never looks for him and he doesn't care about his opinion. And he doesn't do it as a spite for the way he treats him, because we saw the other time that I also treated him badly, yet we always end up working together. Yes, maybe Sherlock doesn't care of you as you would like, but you are important to him >>.

Finally Molly smiles and shakes his hand.

<< Thanks, Greg >> she says to him and this gratitude Greg perceives it on the skin.

They conclude the lunch, by finding themselves talking about the plus and minus and it is so pleasant that Greg almost forgets that he has a key loaded with documents to check that it weighs in his pocket.

Molly insists on paying for lunch, but he doesn't want to know about it and finds herself having to force her to put the money back in her wallet.

<< I seem to take advantage of it too much >> she says uncomfortable, restarting a lock of hair behind the ear.

<< I think you should take advantage of it more and make yourself less trouble, Molly >> retorts him as they walk back to the Bart's. This time they remain talking for a few moments in front of the front door, until the girl realizes that she is late. Molly throws her arms around Greg's neck, taking him by surprise and squeezes him tightly.

Greg realizes that it's been a long time since the last time a woman other than his daughter hugged him. It's pleasant. Puts together broken pieces for too long.

<< Thanks again >> she whispers in his ear, then placing a kiss on his shaved cheek. Greg can't tell her anything. He barely smiles as she walks away from him, embarrassed by her own gesture. Molly walks quickly to the hospital and Greg remains there to look at her, her scent imprinted on him and the warmth of that kiss to warm his heart.


	9. Chapter 9

Capitolo 9

Greg si strofina gli occhi fissi per quasi tre ore davanti al computer e alla fine decide di chiuderli per un po '.

"Oh Gesù!" pensa, cercando di riordinare le informazioni che ha raccolto.

Dalla documentazione "recuperata" dal computer di Molly, scoprì quale morte morirono i ricattatori di Susan Jackson.

Gregson fu trovato da sua moglie nel suo garage, a causa di un arresto cardiaco che portò alla sua morte quasi immediata. Con l'efficienza che la caratterizza, il patologo ha cercato di capire se stava affrontando un vero infarto o se questo era stato causato da qualcosa che l'uomo ingeriva e che forse gli era stato dato per eliminarlo.

Dato che Gregson era in ottima salute, secondo sua moglie, ma confermato dalle sue cartelle cliniche, tale controllo è più che importante, sebbene un arresto cardiaco possa catturare chiunque in qualsiasi momento, sano o malato. L'unico problema fisico di Gregson sembrava essere la costipazione. Molly ha rintracciato la leggera presenza di foxglove nel sangue umano a preparazioni erboristiche per lassativi che Gregson prendeva regolarmente e che usano quantità minime di foxglove. Greg, tuttavia, sa che il ricattatore non è morto per una sventura e per lui quella piccola quantità di digitale ha un significato più che chiaro.

Gregson lascia la moglie e due figli di dodici e sedici anni. Dalla foto scattata al momento della scoperta, è possibile vedere un ultimo modello Bentley acquistato solo sei mesi prima, un'auto un po 'troppo costosa per un semplice impiegato in un'agenzia assicurativa. Questo dettaglio, tuttavia, sembra non essere stato preso in considerazione durante l'inchiesta.

McManara, tuttavia, è morto a causa delle lesioni subite durante un brutto incidente durante la guida di un'auto troppo lussuosa. Greg apre le foto della scena dell'incidente per l'ennesima volta e si chiede ancora una volta come sia stato possibile che nessuno abbia notato ciò che gli sembra chiaro e ovvio.

Dalle foto è chiaro che non c'è alcun segno di frenata sull'asfalto da parte della macchina che, come spiegato dal rapporto elaborato dall'agente stradale, ha tagliato la strada per l'uomo, facendolo finire contro il muro di un vecchio magazzino. McManara ha frenato, le ruote della sua auto hanno lasciato delle belle strisce nere evidenti. Tentò disperatamente di salvarsi dal suo assassino.

Nulla è stato ottenuto dalle telecamere sul posto poiché si è rivelato difettoso, sempre secondo l'agente che ha scritto il rapporto. Nessuno, tuttavia, è venuto in mente di capire perché fossero difettosi e cosa ne pensassero i proprietari del magazzino che ne erano responsabili. Il caso fu chiuso con punti scuri che erano così chiari da saltare all'occhio del più stupido bobby.

"Dio, meritiamo le parole sprezzanti di Sherlock" sospira Greg.

Per quanto riguarda Eleonor Marchall, il cui caso è ancora aperto e in fase di elaborazione da parte di Dimmock e della sua unità, Molly nota la presenza di un cartello attorno al collo parzialmente carbonizzato della donna. Indica che, tuttavia, a causa delle condizioni del corpo non è possibile capire se sia stato causato dall'esplosione o se fosse precedente.

Greg ebbe l'idea che la donna fosse stata strangolata e poi il suo assassino inscenò quella perdita di gas per coprire le sue tracce, e che importa se altre cinque persone furono uccise.

"Troppe irregolarità" sussurra, sputando fumo e malcontento. Dal momento che non vuole arrendersi all'idea di Sherlock di quanto siano non professionali, preparati e capaci gli Yardes, questi buchi di indagine possono solo essere una chiara prova della presenza delle talpe di Moriarty all'interno del Met. Più di uno perché, da quanto ha potuto vedere da queste tre autopsie e relativa documentazione, il reparto stradale, il dipartimento scientifico e, sfortunatamente per lui, ne sono interessati il dipartimento investigativo.

"E uno di questi è il mio assassino", pensa, aprendo i file personali degli agenti che hanno redatto il rapporto sull'incidente della McManara, dei sondaggi nell'edificio in cui è morta Susan Marchall e Jordan, che ha preparato quello sugli sposi Jackson.

È nel registro del giovane agente che Greg ha trascorso più tempo. Non riesce a credere che potrebbe essere lui, responsabile della sua squadra per alcuni mesi.

"Poco dopo l'arrivo di John nella vita di Sherlock, se non sbaglio," pensa Greg, una coincidenza che fa vibrare le sue antenne. "Se è così ... quali erano le tue vere intenzioni ieri sera quando mi hai proposto di unirti a te per una birra?" Lui si chiede.

Sherlock e John non gli hanno detto nulla sugli sviluppi del caso in corso in Spagna. Anche Mycroft la sera prima durante la cena non ha detto altro. A conti fatti, Greg non sa se stanno mettendo Moriarty nei guai al punto che il criminale può decidere di ucciderlo per bruciare il cuore del consulente, o se è ancora abbastanza forte da non averne bisogno.

"È confortante avere certezze nella vita" Greg fissa ironicamente la foto impeccabile di Jordan, allegata al suo dossier. "Al pub di fronte al Met, hai detto" medita, dicendosi che, dato che domani è ancora libero, potrebbe andare lì stanotte e vedere se è abbastanza fortunato da incontrarlo "E lo incontrerò se lo è vero che è sulle mie tracce ".

Greg dà un'occhiata alla telecamera situata sopra la porta d'ingresso della biblioteca dove ha deciso di svolgere le sue indagini. Si è preso cura di controllare se c'erano altri, prima di scegliere su quale dei tavoli sedersi. Secondo John, Mycroft è il signore delle telecamere a circuito chiuso, quindi potrebbe essere più che comodo senza una telecamera dietro di sé. Il fratello di Sherlock, tuttavia, ci ha tenuti ripetutamente a sottolineare come fosse meglio non fidarsi di nessuno, specialmente di quelli a lui vicini.

"Per quanto ne so, Moriarty potrebbe persino fregare qualcuno come te, Myc", dice, spegnendo il laptop. Greg prende il cellulare e apre la chat che ha con Margaret. Sorride, pensando con soddisfazione di essere finalmente riuscito a inventare qualcosa. Forse aver parlato della strana idea che è stata fatta su di lui dopo tutto ha cambiato qualcosa.

Ti sei davvero preso due giorni liberi?

Signore, non ci posso credere!

Puoi andare a prendere i bambini, se vuoi. Saranno felici.

Ma devo chiederti di riportarli a casa non troppo tardi.

Domani George ha un test di matematica.

Aveva già concordato con Leslie di studiare insieme questo pomeriggio.

Lizzy, d'altra parte, ha il test di francese e sai bene come odia questa lingua!

Greg ride e si rende conto di essere commosso. Margaret non gli parlava con calma da molto tempo, senza insultarlo. Sembra quasi che siano tornati indietro nel tempo, quando, invece di messaggi di testo, si sono lasciati 'post-it' appesi sul frigorifero e si ricorda che alla fine di ogni comunicazione lei disegnava sempre una faccina o un cuore. Erano piccole cose insignificanti. Greg si rese conto, tuttavia, a sue spese, che nulla è insignificante.

Non gli piace pensare alla possibilità di andare in quel pub e incontrare il suo assassino, ora che ha riletto questo messaggio. Greg la ama ancora, è inutile provare a dire il contrario. Nonostante tutto il danno che gli ha fatto. Nonostante abbia avuto una relazione stabile con un altro uomo. Nonostante sia stata un'idea folle di lui innamorato di Sherlock, Greg non può fare a meno di provare amore per questa donna.

"Sono un maledetto masochista" pensa, sfregandosi il viso stanco con entrambe le mani. Greg controlla l'orologio e si rende conto che è a rischio di ritardo anche oggi.

Solo la fortunata congiunzione astrale di semafori verdi e poco traffico gli consente di arrivare in tempo alla scuola di George. Greg vede suo figlio uscire con i suoi compagni e poi separarsi da loro per continuare il viaggio con la sua amica Leslie. Entrambi hanno gli occhi fissi sullo smartphone, in cui stanno guardando qualcosa che sembra davvero interessante. Ridono e Greg sorride con loro per vederli così spensierati, nonostante i molti problemi. Anche i genitori di Leslie si separarono quasi contemporaneamente a lui e Margaret e questo sembra aver rafforzato l'amicizia tra i due ragazzi. Greg è felice che suo figlio abbia avuto qualcuno accanto a lui durante la tempesta, con il quale può sfogarsi e farsi capire, dal momento che cavalcano le stesse onde alte e minacciose.

George lo nota per caso e gli punta il dito, catturando l'attenzione del suo amico. Entrambi corrono verso l'auto da cui Greg esce letteralmente sopraffatto da suo figlio che lo tiene in un forte abbraccio.

<< Non ci posso credere! >> grida allegramente George. Lo ripete più volte, senza accennare a voler lasciarlo andare. Leslie ovviamente si sente a disagio e attira l'attenzione sul suo smartphone, ma può vedere dal sorriso che ha stampato sulla sua faccia quanto sia felice per il suo amico.

<< Mi sono preso due giorni di ferie e ho chiesto a tua madre se avrei potuto prendere te e Lizzy anche oggi >> Greg sussurra all'orecchio di George, stringendolo a sua volta. Il calore di questo abbraccio riesce a sciogliere le tensioni che Greg ha indossato dalla sera prima, con una forza maggiore rispetto a quella breve e imbarazzata di Molly.

<< E lei disse di sì? Non posso crederci! >> dice George a malapena allontanandosi. Ha versato qualche lacrima e sta attento a rimuovere immediatamente tutte le tracce.

<< Non so se è un buon segno o solo una coincidenza. Non voglio pensarci. Sono qui e basta >> dice Greg, battendo il figlio sulle spalle. << Leslie, salta su, ti porto a casa >>.

Il ragazzo cerca di replicare, ma Greg insiste e George finisce per trascinarlo per un braccio. Entrambi si siedono sul sedile posteriore e, durante il breve viaggio verso la casa del ragazzo, tutti e tre parlano del rugby e dei cantanti del momento, di cui Greg non sapeva nemmeno l'esistenza.

Quando Leslie dice addio, ricordando a George l'appuntamento del pomeriggio, George si siede accanto a Greg, pronto a stare di fronte alla scuola di sua sorella.

<< Perché ti sei preso le vacanze se stavi conducendo le indagini su Jackson? >> chiede suo figlio. Greg si preparò alle domande di George e prima di uscire controllò la sua macchina da cima a fondo, cercando cimici o altri diavoli senza trovare nulla. Accende comunque la radio, nel caso in cui qualcosa gli fosse sfuggito.

<< Li ho passati a qualcun altro >> dice ammiccandolo. Il ragazzo capisce e sorride compiaciuto.

<< E ti ha dato notizie sul caso che sta conducendo in Spagna? >> gli chiede e sembra che non stia aspettando altro che fargli questa domanda. George ha nei suoi occhi quel bagliore pieno di curiosità e ammirazione per Sherlock, che rinnova i dubbi di Greg sulla possibilità che ci sia qualcosa di più.

<< A dire il vero no >> risponde, abbozzando un sorriso.

<< Come ha reagito alle informazioni che gli hai fornito sul caso? >> George lo preme.

<< Oh, beh, sai ... è di poche parole. Ha risposto con un laconico "Ok" e da allora non ho più avuto sue notizie. >>

George si torce il naso e fissa un punto pensieroso.

<< È strano, lo sai? >> dice George, uscendo dal suo silenzio. << Sherlock è sempre stato gentile con me ed è andato avanti in molte spiegazioni, quando gli ho inviato le prove che ho trovato. Non capisco perché non sia anche con te >>.

Greg ha sempre pensato che suo figlio fosse un ragazzo intelligente e perspicace e con queste domande che gli pone, sta dando ulteriori prove. Greg si sente come un verme al pensiero di dover mentire di nuovo a lui.

<< Sherlock è così, Georgie >> dice scrollando le spalle. << Quando viene coinvolto in un'indagine, non risponde affatto. Mi ritengo fortunato che l'abbia fatto anche con un semplice "Ok". Mi ci sono abituato ora >>.

Il ragazzo annuisce e torna a fissare un punto, meditando su ciò che gli ha appena detto.

<< È certamente una persona in particolare, non trovo giusto che altri lo prendano in giro o lo giudichino >> dice, uscendo rapidamente questa volta, dal suo silenzio. << I tuoi colleghi, i miei compagni, pensano che sia solo un uomo eccentrico, che ama prendere in giro le persone. Leslie non lo giudica, ma fa fatica a credere che Sherlock possa davvero fare quello che fa. Mi piace >> dice George, guardando fuori dalla finestra.

Un brivido attraversa la schiena di Greg. Potrebbe essere un'osservazione innocua così come il desiderio di iniziare una conversazione su un argomento che il detective non sente di voler affrontare in questo momento. Greg si sente a disagio. Molto a disagio. Vorrebbe cambiare argomento, ma non mi viene in mente nulla. Parcheggia davanti alla scuola di Elisabeth e spera che arrivi presto. Non sopporta il silenzio in cui George si è chiuso.

<< Pensi che potrei scrivere a Sherlock per chiedergli del caso? >> chiede George e c'è di nuovo quella luce che lo abbaglia. << Forse mi avrebbe risposto, come faceva quando era qui >> aggiunge.

Col senno di poi, George potrebbe essere mosso dal semplice desiderio di essere utile per le indagini.

"Sì, è così! Sono lo sciocco che faccio tutta questa paranoia!" Pensa Greg e incasina istintivamente i capelli aggrovigliati di suo figlio con la mano.

<< Non lo so, Georgie. Potrebbe anche essere telegrafico con te o non risponderti nel modo giusto e non voglio che ti faccia male. Sherlock è in grado di ferire gli altri senza accorgersene >>.

<< Bene, anche gli altri lo feriscono, e il più delle volte in modo ovvio e volontario >> dice il ragazzo. << Penso che sia normale che una persona diventi acida quando è circondata da persone pronte a giudicare negativamente ciò che è, ciò che fa, le cose in cui crede. In qualche modo deve difendersi. Lo hai fatto anche con la mamma quando ti ha accusato di essere gay >> dice, guardandolo di lato.

Lo stomaco di Greg si stringe e gira lo sguardo sull'orologio e su quella dannata lancetta dell'orologio che proprio non vuole sapere di andare alle 12 e suonare il maledetto campanello.

<< Tua madre non mi ha accusato di essere gay, ma di innamorarmi di lui >>.

<< Non è la stessa cosa? >> chiede incuriosito.

<< No non lo è >> dice Greg con sicurezza, anche se non lo è affatto. << Penso che puoi innamorarti di qualcuno del tuo stesso sesso senza essere attratto da tutti gli altri uomini. Penso che lo chiamino eteroflessibilità, ma non sono sicuro, perché con tutti i nuovi termini che sono in materia mi perdo >>.

George torna a fissare il punto, riflettendo su ciò che Greg ha detto. Data l'importanza dell'argomento Greg spera di non aver detto la merda gigantesca.

<< Quindi se mi piace un ragazzo e solo lui e non tutti gli altri ragazzi, allora non sono gay? >> gli chiede.

"Gesù! Non potremmo più semplicemente parlare di donne?" pensa, imprecando ancora una volta quella stupida lancetta dell'orologio troppo lenta.

<< No >> risponde Greg, cercando di essere credibile. << Se ti senti attratto dagli uomini sì, se ti senti attratto dalle donne e allora conosci un uomo che ti attrae, no >>.

<< Che casino >> dice seriamente il ragazzo. << Non sarebbe più ovvio non preoccuparsi di chi è con chi e perché e permettere a tutti di essere e fare ciò che vogliono? >>.

Il ragionamento del ragazzo non fa una svolta e Greg lo approva pienamente. Come può spiegargli che, tuttavia, ci sono persone bigotte, ottuse e convinte di avere una ragione assoluta, pronte ad andare contro chiunque esce da ciò che è considerato "normale". Questa è la realtà, ma non vuole nemmeno spaventarlo, perché in qualche modo le cose cambieranno, anche se non sa come o quando.

<< Ecco perché mi piace Sherlock, sai? >> continua il ragazzo, guardando altrove. << Perché non gli importa del giudizio della gente. Nonostante ciò che pensano e dicono di lui, continua a portare avanti il suo lavoro e la sua vita. È ammirevole, vero? >>.

<< Sì, lo è. Anche così solo, temo >>.

<< John è con lui e penso che anche loro stiano bene insieme. Ma prima, sì, penso anche che fosse molto solo e forse è per questo che ha usato droghe. Ricordi quando lo abbiamo ospitato? >>.

Greg annuisce e ricorda ciò che la sua ex moglie gli ha detto di quell'ospite. << Aveva tutti questi segni sulle braccia e quelle occhiaie sotto gli occhi. Pensavo fosse un mago quando ci ha raccontato cose su di noi a colazione che non poteva sapere. Se fosse nato nel Medioevo lo avrebbero accusato di stregoneria e bruciato sul rogo >>.

In un certo senso, Greg pensa che Sherlock abbia qualcuno determinato a bruciare il suo cuore anche in questa era. Lo stesso individuo a causa del quale Greg stesso è in pericolo.

<< Hai davvero salvato la vita a Sherlock, papà? >> chiede George, curiosamente, sporgendosi verso di lui.

<< Gli ho chiesto di scegliere tra i farmaci e la possibilità di collaborare. Ha scelto l'alternativa più vantaggiosa per lui >>.

<< Fantastico! >> esclama il ragazzo. << Sei una persona importante per lui. Sono contento che tu non gli abbia voltato le spalle >> dice, guardandolo con orgoglio.

Lo stomaco contratto di Greg si scioglie davanti a quello sguardo che aumenta di molto la sua autostima. Essere un amico di Sherlock è anche questo, non solo rischiando la vita a causa del pazzo che ha deciso di giocare con lui.

<< Ti piace davvero il detective consulente, eh? >> dice, indipendentemente dalle possibili interpretazioni di questa frase. Il ragazzo diventa rosso come un pomodoro e Greg si rende conto di essersi dato una zappa in piedi.

La portiera del passeggero si apre e Lizzy, il suo profumo e il suo comportamento, invadono l'abitacolo

<< Non ci posso credere! Tu sei qui!!! >> urla allegramente, gettandogli le braccia attorno al collo, indipendentemente da come stia schiacciando suo fratello. Questa volta George non ci pensa due volte a rinunciare al suo posto e ad andare dietro, un segno di quanto deve sentirsi imbarazzato. Si rannicchia contro il sedile, rendendo impossibile vederlo dallo specchietto retrovisore.

<< Come è possibile? >> chiede la ragazza a Greg, stampando un bacio che lascerà sicuramente il segno scuro del rossetto sulla guancia.

<< Ho consegnato il caso che stavo seguendo a Sherlock, mi sono preso due giorni di ferie e ho chiesto a tua madre se potevo venire a prendere te e tuo fratello anche oggi. Ha detto di sì, ed eccomi >> le dice anche lui, che però lo guarda scettico, prendendo il suo posto.

<< Penso che ce ne sia di più >> dice, lanciando uno sguardo interrogativo che porta Greg a notare come assomiglia a lui, specialmente quando assume espressioni simili. << Non hai niente da dirci, ispettore Lestrade? >> chiede, incrociando le braccia sul petto. Greg è sbalordito, completamente inconsapevole di dove voglia dire.

<< Smettila, Liz! >> dice George da dietro, dando uno schiaffo a sua sorella. Vorrebbe restituirlo, ma Greg le blocca la mano.

<< Potrei sapere di cosa stai parlando? >> le chiede e la ragazza lo guarda storto e poi torna a sedersi composta.

<< Dov'eri a pranzo ieri? >> chiede, con un tono di interrogatorio convincente al punto che sembra aver fatto il suo lavoro per anni.

Greg alza gli occhi al cielo. Ovviamente sa dove era a pranzo il giorno prima, quello che non sa è come possono saperlo.

<< Ero al bar di fronte al Bart's >>.

<< Da solo? >> lo esorta sua figlia.

<< Ho pranzato con il patologo per continuare a parlare del caso su cui stavo lavorando >> risponde, infastidito dai modi della ragazza e dover mentire di nuovo.

<< Hai pranzato con un anatomopatologo? >> chiede George, sbirciando dal sedile posteriore.

<< Sì Mangiano anche loro, sai? >> risponde divertito dal suo stupore.

<< E stai facendo qualcos'altro con questo patologo? >> chiede Elisabeth senza voltarsi.

<< Anche se fosse così, cosa importa a te? >> si intromette George. << La mamma ha un amante e prima che si separassero. Non vedo perché papà non possa ricostruire la sua vita. Con una donna che scuoia i cadaveri, allora! Freddo! >> dice euforico.

<< Non sono affatto d'accordo! >> ribatte Elisabetta alterata. << Prima di tutto, dici che hai chiuso con le donne e poi la mamma ci chiede se stai uscendo con qualcuno e ci racconta questa storia su di te a pranzo con una giovane donna >>.

<< Mi ha visto al bar con Molly? >> chiede stupito.

<< Oh Signore, che nome ridicolo! >> dice Elisabetta disgustata. << Non ti ha visto. Perché avrebbe dovuto essere vicino a Bart's per pranzo? >> chiede, guardando in cielo per la sua deduzione completamente sbagliata. << Era Dora >>.

<< Gesù, Dora! >>.

Greg si era completamente dimenticato della cara amica infermiera di Margaret che lavora da Bart. Sicuramente deve ringraziare il segretario del dipartimento per questa sbirciatina.

<< Non ci hai pensato, eh? >> lo prende in giro sua figlia. << Ovviamente abbiamo detto alla mamma che non ne sapevamo nulla. Apparentemente, anche se fa le sue cose meravigliosamente, vuole ancora essere l'unica donna nella tua vita >>.

<< Faccio il tifo per Molly >> si intromette di nuovo George, saltando fuori dal sedile posteriore. << Pensi che mi permetterà di vedere un cadavere aperto? >>.

<< Non te lo lascerò fare. Ti assicuro che non è un bello spettacolo >> lo rimette a posto, dandogli una brutta occhiata. << E comunque, per evitare equivoci, non c'è assolutamente nulla tra di noi. Abbiamo appena pranzato insieme, tutto qui. Se dovessi stare con tutte le persone con cui mi capita di pranzare o cenare ... >> non termina la frase, pensando che la sera prima avesse cenato con Mycroft Holmes e il suo segretario, un duo nel mezzo di che non vorrebbe davvero finire. Greg pensa anche che stasera abbia meditato sul tentativo di trovare Jordan nel pub e se i suoi sospetti sulla vera identità dell'agente fossero infondati, la situazione potrebbe diventare alquanto imbarazzante con lui.

<< Forza papà, per una volta conosci qualcuno di interessante! >> dice George. << Abbiamo già perso l'opportunità di avere Sherlock Holmes come patrigno >> dice e sua sorella ridacchia divertita. Greg li guarda con stupore e si rende conto che hanno preso quella cosa molto meglio di lui.

<< Andiamo da te? >> gli chiede Elisabeth, cambiando completamente argomento.

<< Non oggi, ragazzi, mi dispiace. George deve studiare matematica con Leslie e domani dovrai occuparti del francese >>.

<< Chi se ne frega del test! Il mondo intero parla inglese. Non vedo perché io, che sono madrelingua, debba affrontare il problema di imparare un'altra lingua >>.

<< Questo è un argomento che ti porta direttamente nella top ten delle cazzate della settimana, Liz >> ride suo fratello e questa volta lo schiaffo arriva davvero da lui.

Arrivano davanti alla casa di Margaret ed entrambi lo stringono forte e gli lasciano un bacio sulla guancia prima di scendere dalla macchina. Greg li osserva scendere lungo il sentiero uno accanto all'altro. Suonano alla porta e la madre le apre facendole entrare. Prima di chiudere la porta, Margaret guarda Greg e lo saluta con la mano, sorridendogli.

"La sua gelosia deve essere seria" pensa Greg, rispondendo al suo saluto che lo riempie di gioia. Spera davvero che i giorni bui dei litigi, le convocazioni del suo avvocato, gli insulti e la tensione costante siano finiti.

Quando la porta si chiude Greg mette la macchina in moto verso casa sua. Deve prepararsi per la serata e sperare di terminarlo con l'arresto del killer assunto per ucciderlo.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Greg parks the car under the house and before getting out he checks the message he has received. While driving he only saw that it was from Margaret and did not want to risk reading it in a hurry and maybe responding badly and starting another war.

The children are studying quietly.

I can not believe it!

I think they would be happy if you came to pick them up tomorrow.

They have no commitments. If you too have not other commitments, they could stay with you for dinner.

Let me know.

Greg must reread it several times and even rub his eyes to convince himself that he has understood correctly. Apparently Margaret is really jealous. He must admit that he is satisfate at the thought of how it annoys her to know that he frequent another woman. However, Greg try to be an adult and put these these childish games aside. Spending time with his sons is much more important, and if this misunderstanding can play in his favor, it is a good thing that Margaret think that he has a new relationship.

Greg gets out of the car with the feeling of having won a battle and thinks that a trip to the shop would not be bad, just to collect a few smiles from the woman who works there.

"And come out with her number in your pocket," adds John's voice, snatching a smile from him.

He pulls straight, therefore, going beyond his door, determined to throw himself in this new adventure. A dark car runs alongside him. The passenger side window opens and reveals Anthea's presence.

<< Good evening, Gregory >> she chirps, smiling at him.

<< What a coincidence >> he chuckles nervously. << We should stop meeting like this, don't you think? >> he says mischievously, leaning on the car, and once again the woman laughs brazenly, giving him the idea of making fun of him.

<< My chief is jealous, he would never allow me to meet you in any other way >> she says, winking at him and for a moment Greg wonders who Mycroft is jealous of. He finds that he prefers not to know the answer. << Shall we go? >> asks the woman, inviting him to get in the car.

<< Another dinner in a crowded pub? >> he asks without taking a step.

<< Let's not talk about it here, Gregory, please >> she asks seriously, hiding an order behind a kind request. The detective snorts and climbs into the back seat.

<< Good evening, Gregory >>.

He did not expect to find Mycroft on board. He takes his seat in the chair, right in front of him, in this large car that houses a small living room inside.

<< Don't you think we're seeing each other a little too often? >> he asks him, by crossing his arms over his chest.

<< For me it is a pleasure to spend time in your company >> Mycroft says with that drawn smile. << You are an… interesting person >> he adds, tightening his eyelids. Greg doesn't like the way he looks at him, as if it were a strange laboratory creature. << I can imagine, however, why you may find my presence annoying to upset your plans for the evening >> he says seriously and Greg wonders how he can know what he has just thought of doing.

<< I asked you to close the case and leave the investigation to Sherlock >> he says sternly.

<< That's what I did >> Greg replies.

<< Really? >> asks him smiling and Greg would gladly remove Mycroft's arrogant air from his face with punches. << I must therefore think you spent the afternoon in the library to prepare some exam, like the university students who were sitting around you >>.

<< Am I not even free to use my time constructively when I'm off? >> he asks ironically.

<< No, if you use it to put yourself in danger with your own hands! >> Mycroft says, raising his voice. The hard gaze on him is capable of making Greg feel small and stupid. << You don't realize how dangerous what you're doing! >> Mycroft exclaims and is afraid what Greg feels coming from him. The face is tense, the expression angry, but it is clear how scared he is. However much Mycroft has told him to care about his safety, Greg feels he is not the cause of this fear.

<< It is not the first time that I receive threats, Mycroft. I'm not stupid enough to underestimate that man's madness, but I can't stand to stay with anything to do, knowing that there is a killer who keeps his weapon pointed at me >>.

<< So you want to find out who he is and do what? Do you want to arrest him? >> he asks him, showing him again that arrogant smile.

<< It's my job >> he replies and this time Mycroft laughs openly in his face.

<< Greg, I consider you intelligent enough to realize how Moriarty sowed Scotland Yard of men at his service. You have already noticed how much the reports submitted by those who followed the investigations into the murders of the blackmailers and Susan Jackson's secretary have changed. Even if you arrest him, do you think that would change anything? He may run away at any time, or, if James deems it useless by now, he could even be killed in jail, but your condition would not change. Would Moriarty put someone else on you, so what are you going to do? Will you continue to investigate and investigate and investigate again, chasing forever the hired killer to blow your brains out? It would become a real obsession and it seemed to me that I understood you had two children to grow up >>.

Greg's stomach is shut. Mycroft's words and the way he said them didn't make a big impression. He realizes, however, how skilled this man is at manipulating people and he decides not to allow him to play with him.

<< So is this what you do? >> he says, leaning his back against the seat back. << You try to touch your neighbor where he is most fragile. My compliments >> he says bowing his head. << It is a technique that I also use in interrogation and I must say that it is also quite possible for me. Of course, you have a more refined style, let's say so. Years of training and experience, I presume >>. Mycroft looks away and Greg takes it as a sign of victory. << I know very well that you are right. I know, really >> Greg says leaning towards him. << But what should I do otherwise? I am used to solving my problems myself >>.

<< This is not your problem >> Mycroft replies, bringing back his severe gaze.

<< Oh, sure, sorry. I forgot that your brother putted me into this trouble >> he snaps back against the back. << Even if you and I, know that Sherlock is only a victim. The real culprit is Moriarty >>.

Mycroft looks away again and remains silent. This strikes Greg, who was expecting a joke, a nod, but nothing similar comes from the man of the government. An intuition takes him by surprise giving him the chills.

<< You block all those who approach Sherlock and you interrogate them, dig into their lives, make them keep an eye >> he says, capturing Mycroft's attention again. << This Moriarty cannot have gone unnoticed. I mean, you are 'the lord of CCTV', the older brother eternally worried, that he will do his best for the well-being of his little brother. You must have done the same thing with this criminal as you did with me and John. You will have asked Moriarty why he was interested in your brother, only that it didn't go well with him as it did with us, isn't Myc? We are not crazy and powerful to the point of reversing the situation and going from being controlled to controlling >>.

Mycroft's face becomes increasingly expressionless, making him look like a wax statue. Greg feels like he can feel his muscles tighten and his breath freeze.

<< You're playing with fire, Greg. A fire that could burn you, that is already burning you >> Mycroft warns him seriously.

<< How far are you involved in this story? >> he asks.

<< I am not willing to submit to your interrogation >> he replies dryly.

<< So why should I stay at yours? >> he presses firmly. << I've had enough secrets, Myc. I want the truth and not a surrogate to whom the necessary complaints have been made >>.

Mycroft shakes his head and gives a laugh.

<< You really are the best element that Scotland Yard has in his assets, Gregory >> he says and his face softens in a way that embarrasses Greg to the point of making him blush. << The truth is that that man blackmails me and if I continue to allow him to do what he wants it is only for the safety of my brother >>.

Greg blinks in surprise at that confession.

<< Does he blackmail you? Why do not you tell me? I could have helped you >>.

<< How? >> laughs Mycroft. << That man is infinitely powerful, Greg. And crazy, too. I have tried in every way to keep my brother out, as I have tried with you, but you are both stubborn and inclined to rebel against even the most basic rules of common sense! >>.

Mycroft puts his elbows over his knees and takes his face in his hands. Greg never expected to see him so fragile and shaken.

<< Tell me the truth, Mycroft >> he says leaning towards him. << We are all on the same boat, since we are in danger. Spit the toad, you won't be able to get in more trouble than it already is >> Greg try to convince him.

Holmes looks up to meet his. His eyes are infinitely tired, tried and sad. It is as if the mask of coldness that he usually wears had fallen, finally giving way to this man's emotional world to manifest.

<< You, John, Sherlock ... you ended up entangled in a story of which I am the author >> Mycroft admits, just raising his eyes to meet him. << It wasn't my intention, obviously. I just wanted to solve a situation that has become unsustainable and, instead, this has generated a wave effect that I would not have expected. These things happen when you let your actions be carried out by the heart rather than by reason >>.

<< And what has your heart tried to carry on? >> Greg asks and Mycroft takes a deep breath before answering.

<< You will have understood that our parents weren't really good parents. My father was a violent, insensitive and authoritarian man of power. In his opinion Sherlock was throwing too much mud on his good name and had decided that his life should end >>.

<< Did your father want to kill his son? >>.

Greg can't believe what Mycroft is confiding in him. The man nods slowly and takes another breath. He appears fatigued and it is visible how much weights to him recover these memories.

<< Yes, Gregory >> he says, sketching a very sad smile. << I was able to quell his anger when we discovered the romantic relationship that Sherlock had been pursuing for some time with a college friend. This relationship ended badly, also because of my father, and my brother turned to drugs. At that point it was impossible for me to convince my father to desist from his intentions. So I had to make an extreme decision >>.

Mycroft looks Greg straight in the eyes. That look tells a truth that the detective is struggling to accept. He always thought that this man had a pathological control craze and that he did everything to show his power, a bit like his brother does anything to demonstrate his intelligence. Greg now realizes, however, how much love he feels for Sherlock and how much he has done to save him and can not help but be moved.

<< You ... are telling me that to save your brother you have ... >>.

Mycroft merely nods, by supporting his amazed gaze.

<< Jesus >> says Greg, letting himself fall against the back of the seat. << Moriarty discovered it and blackmailed you. He will reveal what you have done, by putting yourself in trouble if you do not keep his orders >>.

<< It is his way of keeping me in control. More than anything else James craves power. The one hidden in the shadows, even more powerful than the manifest one. I am a powerful man and to control and use me he beats on my exposed nerve >>.

Greg shakes his head. It is difficult for him to accept this uncomfortable truth which he regrets having asked to be made aware of.

<< All this is crazy >> he says, bringing his hands to his face. << Is that why he's behaving like this? It is for this reason that Moriarty showed Sherlock what he is capable to do, inviting him not to investigate and at the same time asked him, between the lines, to continue doing so? This absurd story of burning his heart >> he sighs, shaking his head. << Lord, it is enough even to know him little, your brother, to understand that he is not the type of man to stop in front of similar threats, on the contrary. And he was so clever that he got Sherlock to fall into his trap, so he could get control over you. Take advantage of his obsession with investigations to be able to hold you in hand >> he concludes, clapping his hands on his knees.

Greg feels deep anger at how this crazy criminal uses people. He made fun of Molly, courting her for the sole purpose of getting to the consultant and now she makes fun of Sherlock to be able to hold the most powerful man in England in his hand. Moriarty works by hitting people in their frailties. Molly's need for affection, Sherlock's need for recognition and Mycroft's brotherly love.

<< As I said you are an excellent detective >> Mycroft sighs the latter smiling at him. << For a man like Moriarty people are nothing more than toys to use to achieve his goals. He is also the type of child who enjoys destroying his games after using them for a while. He will destroy Sherlock just for the pleasure of seeing him go deep. He will destroy it both emotionally, causing it to cause the death of those he loves, and professionally, throwing mud on his name and his abilities. And he will do it to subjugate me, to destroy me and make me a defenseless puppet in his hands, after having taken away, tearing it to pieces, my only reason for living >>.

Mycroft closes his eyes and a tear escapes from his lashes to roll down his pale cheek. He dries it slowly, sighing as if he had lifted a weight from his heart, confiding to him the situation in which he has been forced to live for who knows how long.

Greg realizes he is shaking. He experiences the same feeling of helplessness that he experienced the only time he saw his father cry, when they told him that the end was near and inevitable and that the cancer that was slowly wearing him out would have completely taken him away. Even strong and powerful men have their breaking points, their frailties, and, just as in front of his father, Greg now feels a deep pain in front of the composed and silent one of Mycroft Holmes.

<< I really regret how much you are finding yourself living because of me and my brother. I wanted to help you and I tried to do it despite Moriarty's constant presence in my life. I still have a debt of gratitude to you >>.

<< You have no debt, Myc >> Greg says laughing, visibly uncomfortable at the idea that such a powerful man can feel indebted to him. << I believe that you, although in your own way, are a good brother. You killed for Sherlock. Jesus, a person doesn't kill anther person for someone who doesn't care about. I guess Sherlock doesn't know. Because, if I can say I know him, if he knew what you have done for him, he wouldn't behave like that with you. Look what he did with John. John killed Hope and became Sherlock's paladin >>.

<< I didn't think you knew >>.

<< I can make some deductions too >> he says winking at him. << Do you remember the first time we met? >> asks him, willing to ask him the question that often comes back to his mind in this last days.

<< Oh, how could I forget it! >> Mycroft chuckles, placing the back of his head against the back of the armchair << I was looking for Sherlock everywhere and I was lost my hope to found him and then, miraculously, I found him with you >>.

<< You had me picked up by Anthea at the exit of the Met and she accompanied me to the Diogenes Club >> Greg says and moistens his lips, taking a deep breath. << Why did you ask me that question? >>.

Greg deliberately does not repeat the question, aware of how a brilliant mind like that of Mycroft is able to guess what he is referring to. In fact, the man smiles.

<< I asked you what relationship you were with my brother, because I was afraid that a new relationship would give him the coup de grace >> he reveals, supporting his gaze. Greg feels he is blushing. Thinking that Mycroft also had the same doubts as Margaret closes his stomach. << In those ten years I chased Sherlock in his thousand escapes. I recovered him from all his lowest hiding places, with the needle in his arm or the pupils dilated by acids or who knows what other drugs. I saw him fall prey to characters of dubious morality and the intent all too clear and twice I tried to detoxify him, losing miserably. When the clinic first called me to warn me that my brother had run away I have given them responsibility. The second time I have given to my brother responsibility. The only person I should have been angry with, however, was just myself. If I had protected him when it was time to do it and from the right people, maybe things would have turned out differently. Or maybe not, but at least I would be okay with my damned conscience >>.

Mycroft closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Greg imitates him, realizing that he has remained in apnea all the time. It is the despair of a man who fears for the safety of his brother what he hears coming in waves from Mycroft and that hangs on his despair. The despair that Greg feels towards George and the doubts about his sexual orientation, which is maturing from the last speeches made. The one he feels against Elisabeth and who peaked during the case of the Fenix portal.

<< Instead I didn't protect him >> Mycroft continues, coming out of his silence << I destroyed him >> he whispers, his eyes still closed. << And you have rebuilt him>> he adds, pointing them at Greg. Those eyes appear slightly shiny. They are moved, like Mycroft's voice so low and uncertain.

<< I ... I only gave trust to Sherlock. He needed to experiment with his method and I needed help. I won't deny you that I thought I'd take advantage of his intelligence and at the beginning it was because of what I worried about his health. Then, however, it became a real exchange of needs >> says Greg staring at that pale face, absorbed in who knows what thoughts. << I could never have thought of him in any other way, Mycroft >> he says embarrassed.

<< I know, Greg, I know >> Mycroft chuckles. << I immediately understood that you weren't interested in him in that sense and that's why I didn't hinder your collaboration. Indeed, I have seen the healing potential and the facts have proved me right. As I said, you saved it thanks to that simple pact that I, however, did not think would work. I realized how much Sherlock really cared about this job he was making up. Yes, you gave trust to him. I ... I have to learn >>.

To think that someone like Mycroft has something to learn from him sounds so strange that Greg misses a laugh.

<< I think that you never stop learning. Being a parent is not easy >> he says and immediately realizes the mistake he made.

<< Oh, don't worry. In fact, it is as if I had fulfilled that role, especially after having ... eliminated the real one >> he says and his lips stretch out in that strange smile. << Now I think I have to start to... let him go >> he says in a choked voice with emotion. << He is no longer alone now. He has John at his side >> he says, giving him a look that seems to be saying a lot.

<< Oh >> exclaims Greg amazed. << Do you mean that he and John ...? >>.

<< Was it not evident? >>.

<< For me no. I mean, John since I know him, I've always seen him go from one woman to another. I also envied him a lot, I must say. Now you tell me that he has changed his point of view >>.

Using that expression doesn't do him any good. Margaret's judgmental and disgusted look comes back to his minde and he pushes him away with difficulty.

<< John Watson knows a lot about both points of view, Greg >> says Mycroft raising his eyebrows.

<< Ok, I don't want to know more >> Greg says embarrassed, putting his hands forward. << I only know that I felt relieved to be able to cut the weight of dealing with Sherlock with someone 'normal' as much as I am. Indeed, to say the whole of John's arrival he solved many things for me. It has dampened your brother's risky action a little, although obviously it is possible to do such a thing. I was amazed at how Sherlock had so forcefully brought John not only into his life, but into his work. In those five years, before his arrival, I had seen him alone. Too lonely. I'm glad he found someone now. And they are also for John, he too deserves some peace >>.

<< You too, Greg >> Mycroft tells him and knows how he is referring to what is happening to him with his ex-wife and children.

<< We too, Myc >> retorts and Mycroft looks away embarrassed. << On balance, you are also going through a bad period because of Moriarty. This man must be eliminated. How are the investigations that Sherlock is carrying out in Spain proceeding? >>.

<< Well, even if, I am trying to prevent Moriarty to discover them, I cannot be sure that he doesn't know anithing about. As I told you last night he has ... >>.

<< Eyes and ears everywhere, yes I understand it >> he says meditating on what to do. << Do you know who his moles are at Scotland Yard? >>.

<< No >> Mycroft admits dejected. << Moriarty doesn't only use professionals to infiltrate where they are needed. Another specialty, as you can see, are blackmail. I can not give you the certainty that he would not be able to blackmail some of your colleagues and push him to give him information or to misdirect you or even to kill you >>.

<< I sifted through the files of every agent of my team and of the others, of the whole investigative session, practically, and I did not find anything that could bring them back to him or to something shady to which he may have attached himself to blackmail them >> .

<< You don't have to find them >> insists Mycroft. << As you noticed investigating the Jackson case, they are very good at hiding the truth and disguising the crime scene to draw a totally different situation. I guess you have no intention of giving up on investigating the hired killer to kill you, isn't it? >> he sighs resignedly.

<< I would go crazy if I didn't do something, Mycroft >> Greg confesses. << Knowing that I have a weapon constantly aimed on me and someone who could fire at any moment would send me crazy if I could not feel that I was actively doing something to save myself >>.

Mycroft drops against the seat back and runs his hand over his tired face.

<< Actually I knew you would have answered like this. Even Anthea had told me that I would not be able to convince you to desist >> he says, putting on the lips that drawn smile.

<< I ... I thank you for telling me the truth >> Greg says to him, leaning towards him.

<< I must say it did me good >> nods Mycroft. << I think I needed to confide in someone who can understand. Not that Anthea isn't, but ... you are a father and I have had proof that you would do anything to protect your children. I think that's why it was so easy for me to talk to you >>.

<< Apparently even the most powerful man in England needs a friend >> says Greg with a smile. Mycroft looks at him bewildered and then seems to meditate on what he has told him.

<< I do not quite understand what a friend is, Greg >> he confesses, leaning towards him. The detective must make an effort not to laugh at what he told him. He does not want to risk offending him.

<< I think you got an idea about this today >> Greg says and he thinks about it again.

<< It would be okay with you? I mean, since I understood a friend is an important thing >> Mycroft asks him.

<< A friend is a person, not a thing, Mycroft >> Greg laughs, without being able to restrain himself. Holmes looks at him in amazement and gradually his lips curve into a smile. << Why shouldn't it go well? Of course, I would prefer not to be picked up on the street by Anthea and led who knows where, to talk with you >>.

<< Prudence is never too much. By the way >> Mycroft says, taking a business card from his jacket pocket.

<< It is Anthea's number >> he says, handing it to Greg. << In case you should contact me send her a coded message and she will turn it over to me >>.

Greg stares at the ticket in amazement for a moment, before taking it from his hands.

<< I hope that this climate of terror and espionage will end as soon as possible >> Greg says placing the ticket in the wallet. << Where are we? >> he asks, realizing only now how they are traveling on the streets of London.

<< Around London. I guess you want to go home >> Mycroft asks him without hiding his skepticism about his decision to continue the investigation.

<< Yes, thank you >> he says firmly. << You said you put someone on me from the day I met Sherlock >>.

<< He's still there and he's a trusted person >> Mycroft confirms. << I'll make sure it's from the parts of the pub where you will go to meet that agent. I hope that the evening will end with a misunderstanding, but if not, I want you to know that you will not be alone >>.

<< Well, it's always nice to know to have a guardian angel >>.

The car stops and Greg is amazed at how little it took them to go back to his house.

<< It was a pleasure, Mycroft >> he says, holding out his hand.

<< I can't say I'm satisfied with your decision, but it was a pleasure for me too, Gregory >> he says, shaking his hand.

Greg gets out of the car, which go away immediately. This meeting leaves him with a strange feeling, as if he had woken up now from a strange dream. He and Mycroft said so many things. Too many. Especially between the lines and in the silences.

Greg shakes off everything and goes home. He has an appointment to prepare for and, unlike Mycroft, he hopes to end it with a nice arrest.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Greg is angry. No, to be angry is very little. He is furious.

He stayed in the pub near the Met until midnight to drink two beers and look around, without however seeing enter the person he was waiting for. Greg returned home, convinced that he had caught a crab, since he was more than sure that if Jordan had been the hired killer to kill him, he would have been constantly on his trail. Greg got to bed all in all happy, since that boy is a really good agent and he almost had a heart attack when the phone rang at three in the morning.

It took him a moment to understand what the agent who woke him up in the middle of the night was talking about. Greg was so full of sleep.

<< They brought him to the Bart's ... an aggression ... out of danger, but reduced a lot badly >> Greg managed to catch only these shreds of conversation, also due to the background noise of the place where the agent was.

<< Who you are talking about? >> Greg asked him. It was enough that the agent pronounce that name to wake him up completely.

Jordan lies asleep on the bed in the Bart's traumatology department. The aggressor broke the Jordan's left arm in three places, dislocated him the right wrist and shot him in the chest. Just by a stroke of luck the bullet did not hit the heart, leaving it on the ground more dead than alive.

<< He will stay still for at least six months, including operations, plaster and rehabilitation >> the doctor told Greg.

Jordan sleeps with a drip of painkillers in his right harm. It has no bruises on the face.

<< The aggression took place at 8 pm in a side street near Batty street in Whitechapell >> the agent told Greg as soon as he arrived at the hospital. << In that alley there are no cameras and nobody attended the scene. The ambulance was called by a woman who had come down to take the dog for a walk. I was called when he came to the emergency room, as always happens in cases of victims of aggression >>.

<< Do we have any idea what happened? >> Greg asked him.

<< I didn't have a chance to ask him any questions >> the agent shakes his head. << He was unconscious when he came here. It was without documents or telephone, I thought he had been the victim of a robbery. He was rushed to the operating room and left three hours later. He recovered after three more hours, just long enough to tell me his name. When, entering the data in the system, I discovered that he is a colleague and that is a member of your team, inspector, I rushed to call you >>.

"I wonder why you were there at that hour," Greg thinks, his gaze fixed on the boy who is still unconscious.

Batty street. A few steps from Greenfield Road, where Greg recently found accommodation, after wandering around for a while since Margaret sent him away from home. Jordan was not on duty and Batty street is not near his home. In fact, on his form drawn up at the time of hiring, he appears to live in King Charles Street, six kilometers from there.

The agent told Greg he thought Jordan was the victim of a robbery. For what other reason, after all, someone break a man's arm, shoot him in the chest and leave him on the ground more dead than alive and without documents on him?

"Perhaps to prevent him from killing another man and making his recognition difficult" Greg thinks, his gaze always fixed on the sleeping boy.

He has no evidence in favor of his thesis, if not perhaps Jordan's left-handedness that could connect him to the killer who killed the Jackson'. Beyond this, however, what makes Greg angry is that Mycroft Homes made fun of him. Yes, because if the boy lying in this hospital bed should not be who he says he is, then the most powerful man in England owes him explanations about his not knowing who the Moriarty's moles infiltrated at Scotland Yard were. A job like that done at Jordan can only be the work of a professional. A petty thief, perhaps even toxic or drunk, first strikes the victim's face to stun him. He punches him and then robs him. It does not break arms nor sprains the wrists. It is possible that the thief shoot, yes, but not so precisely. Because it was a shoot of high precision, although it didn't hit, evidently due to a movement made by the boy at the last moment,

"Enough, I need certainties," Greg says, grabbing the plastic cup wrapped in cellophane, placed on the bedside table. Helping himself with a paper tissue, in order not to leave his fingerprints, Greg brings the glass into the fist of Jordan's right hand, taking care that the fingertips adhere well to the plastic. He then puts it in cellophane and puts it in his pocket. "Anderson, I have work for you" Greg thinks satisfied, going to the door of the room.

He turns to the boy before leaving. A part of himself really hopes that he is wrong and that his name not comes out of the system, when the fingerprints are scanned.

"I've had enough of betrayals" Greg thinks, leaving the room.

Greg leaves the hospital making sure that the agent remains on guard, ready to take the depositions as soon as Jordan wakes up. Greg doesn't really want Jordan to have a chance to escape. Although he is badly reduced, if Jordan is a professional killer he would be able to leave the hospital without being discovered. The other alternative is that someone can enter the room and complete the work. They could be other men from Mycroft, or from Moriarty, determined to punish his infiltrator who was discovered and beaten like a youngster without experience.

Greg arrives at the Met which is almost dawn. The scientific division is still without its boss and Greg is forced to entrust the recovery of the prints to one of Anderson's colleagues.

<< A possible test on the beating of Agent Jordan >> Greg says and the boy wants to do his best to find out who has hurt a colleague. Greg stay near the agent throughout the procedure. He sees it spreading the silver-gray[1] over the entire surface of the plastic glass and removing the impressions with the black adhesive tape. Then the agent scans them and enters them into the system.

<< It will take a while, inspector >> the agent informs him, as if Greg didn't know. He tries to sketch a smile and leaves the laboratory. He reaches the homicide division and, taking advantage of the fact that it is partially deserted at this hour, he sits at Jordan's position and begins to rummage among his things.

Although Jordan has been with them for a short time, the boy has no personal effect on his position. Not a photo of a person who cares particularly for him, no package of aspirin or some other medicine, diaries or rubrics, bullshit put there just to give color, as on most of the positions around his. There are only pens, blank sheets to write on and notepads for taking notes and an intact package of tissues left in the first drawer.

Greg gets annoyed that he hasn't recovered anything from this inspection and enters his office, which he shouldn't have seen today. Turns on the PC and as soon as the program is initialized it does some research, connecting to the cadastre site. The apartment on King Charles Street in which Jordan reported living at the time of his recruitment, appears to be owned by a certain Rodney Bolton and regularly rented to Giselle Lamàre for more than a year. Abusive subletting cases are found continuously. The thing that doesn't come back to Greg is that Jordan does not seem to him to be the type to lend himself to this kind of irregularity.

Greg checks if there are any rental or property contracts in his name, but finds nothing.

“Yes, you may actually be the type who lives as an old aunt's guest. Too bad you told me that you don't have anyone waiting for you at home and, from what little you have sayd about you in recent months, you don't even have any relatives or friends here in London " Greg thinks, passing his hand over his tired face.

It becomes increasingly clear that this boy is hiding something. Since the system shows no evidence of having found his fingerprints in the database, Greg scrupulously checks also the road agent, who wrote the report full of inaccuracies for the McManara accident, and the scientific technician, who took care of the gas leak in the building where Susan Marchall lost her life. These appear to live at the address indicated on their card. This does not exonerate them, but it certainly does not even put them in a bad light. No more than they may seem.

The phone on Greg's desk rings and he answers immediately.

<< The system has given results and ... inspector, it is better that you come to see >>.

Greg puts the phone down and runs to the scientific division. He arrives in the laboratory and discovers the agent in the company of Donovan and Anderson, a sign that, between one search and another, it was seven in the morning. All three turn to him with astonished expressions on their faces and eager for explanations.

<< What does this mean, Greg? >> Sally asks him, pointing to the video that shows a mug shot that portrays a decidedly more disheveled and disturbing Jordan. It seems that he answers to the name of Andrej Jadescu, Albanian, and that he is even older than he had declared to them. Ten years old, to be exact. He has a series of crimes to make his skin crawl and is wanted by MI6, the FBI and the CIA.

<< What a good boy >> Greg chuckles, ignoring the colleague's question. << Print me a copy of this report >> asks the agent, who shakes himself with astonishment and executes the order. << Sally, call the agent I put on guard at Bart's. Tell him not to lose sight of Jordan and not to allow anyone, who is not identifiable as a doctor or nurse, to enter that room >> Greg orders Donovan, as he snatches the report he printed from the agent's hands and leaves the lab. Greg strides towards the superintendent's office and knocks on the door he enters without waiting for permission.

<< Lestrade? Weren't you on vacation? Do you think that thhis is the right way to break into my office at this hour? >> the chief, who still wears a jacket, scolds him.

<< Yes, if I have to report the presence of a professional killer among the men you have recently hired in my unit >> Greg says, showing him the report recovered from the system. The superintendent is speechless. He takes the sheet from his hands to read it better and then looks up to meet him.

<< How the hell did you find out? >> he asks him raising his eyebrows.

<< Let's say there were too many things that did not return to the behavior of that boy >> Greg says, still keeping his truths to himself. << Do you think that I can arrest this beautiful specimen of human scum, before the MI6, the CIA or the FBI come to claim him? >>.

<< Make sure that he wakes up as soon as possible >> the chief orders him and, without waiting for it to finish the sentence, Greg leaves the office. He loudly call Donovan and other men on his team, to whom he communicate their next goal without revealing anything else.

Donovan follows him to the car and sits down in the passenger seat. << Do you want to explain to me what's going on? >> she asks.

<< It seems obvious to me, doesn't it? >> Greg says getting into traffic. << Scotland Yard hosts infiltrators with an interesting curriculum >>.

<< Yes, but infiltrated by who and why? >> asks the woman. << We are talking about a killer, one who for money commits the worst wickedness! >>.

<< Yes, it is usually what they do >> minimizes Greg, intending not to add anything else.

<< Stop it, Greg! >> she says, hitting his arm with his hand, strong enough to hurt him. << I am the highest capable agent on your team. We have been working together for almost seven years. I just found out that a man I thought was a colleague I could trust, and who has always proven himself irreproachable and loyal to duty, is actually a dangerous killer and I need to know what's going on! >>.

<< I'm as upset as you, Sally >> he shouts in turn, turning on the siren to travel faster the short journey to the Bart's. << That man screwed us all, damn it! >> he says, clapping his hands on the wheel.

The woman looks at him for a long time, remaining silent. Sally doesn't add anything else for the rest of the trip, which makes the detective nervous. It is not like her to give up so early.

Greg badly parks the car and rushes to the hospital entrance, followed closely by his colleague and other agents. He goes up to the traumatology department and finds the bobby left there on guard to welcome him.

<< How are you doing here? >> he asks.

<< He woke up twenty minutes ago >> the agent informs him.

<< Did he say something? >>.

<< Nothing. I preferred to wait for his arrival, inspector >> the agent says, fearing that he had make a mistake.

<< Excellent decision. You can go >> Greg reassures him by dismissing him. << I want that all of you stay out here. I don't want anyone to come in, not even the primary doctor himself, do you understand? >> Greg order the agents. << You come with me >> he says to Sally. Greg would gladly meet the killer alone, but he needs a witness and he prefers to handle Sally's questions afterwards, rather than make some mistake in this arrest and send it to the hell for some irregularity in form.

Greg enters the room and moves slowly near the bed. The boy barely manages to keep his eyes open, but he seems perfectly aware of the fact that he throws a bad air on him.

<< Andrej Jadescu >> says Greg, slowly pronouncing his real name. << Why does a professional killer break into my team using a fake name? It is an unusual way to redeem yourself, don't you think? >>.

The boy supports his gaze and it is an arrogant smile that curves his lips.

<< I congratulate you, chief >> he says with difficulty. << It made me sweat a lot to keep up with you. In spite of all the things I did, the people I threatened and the ones I deceived to mislead you, you remained undaunted about this case. Your friend Holmes had advised you to close it and you dont listened to it. Too bad that you decided to continue the investigation anyway >>.

<< And for this you have been ordered to complete the assignment that has been entrusted to you >>.

The boy hints at a laugh, but the pain in his chest silences him.

<< Chief, do not lose its appeal right now >> Jordan teases him and although he is suffering manages to be winking.

<< If it's not because of what I was going to do, then I must assume that Sherlock is giving your boss a lot of trouble >>.

<< Client >> the killer corrects him meticulously. << I have neither bosses nor masters. I consider myself a freelancer who works for the highest bidder. And Moriarty is an excellent bidder >> Jordan underlines nodding. << Don't delude yourself, Inspector. The consulting detective is not giving any trouble to his opponent >> he tries to chuckle again.

<< If it is not so, then why did that crazy fool give you the ok to kill me? >> Greg asks him, annoyed by his arrogance.

<< I'm sorry to tell you, because you really is worth much more to be used like this >> Jordan says and his gaze unexpectedly softens. << In this story you are only a front-line pawn, one of those who fall to the first enemy fire >>.

<< The enemy then started attacking >> deduces Greg and the boy nods.

<< You and your consultant friend are carrying on a fight against the windmills >> Jordan says seriously. << Moriarty is not just a man, he is an extensive and well-coordinated criminal organization. That 'mad idiot', as you called it, created an empire that you cannot eradicate >>.

<< You know, Andrej? The more complex the obstacle, the more stubborn I become and Sherlock works like this. Maybe it will take longer than expected, but that man will collapse >> he says convinced, seeing Jordan's smile widen mockingly. << For the moment it is enough for me to know that I have taken you >>.

<< Do you think that arresting me will change your condition? Moriarty will put someone else in my place. Indeed, since he never completely reveals the plans he has in anyone's head, it is also possible that I am not the only one to have you under fire >> he says and Greg freezes the blood in his veins at that idea. << You had not thought about >> Jordan deduces, making fun of Greg amazement. << Do you really think that a person capable of starting an organization of this type entrusts important tasks to one man? >> Jordan remains silent enjoying his disturbance. << You will also have your guardian angels ready to kill to protect you, but it cannot always be good for you. These angels have short wings, inspector >> he says without adding anything else, aware of how well he knows who he is referring to.

<< I am aware of the risks I run >>.

<< I'm not so sure >> he replies. << Do you think you can really trust the people around you, Inspector? >> Jordan asks him, a little verse to what Mycroft had already asked him that evening at the pub. << You know I'm not the only one who infiltrated Scotland Yard. Oh, you would go mad if you knew how far is able to place his pawns, the mad idiot >>.

<< You will fill this gap, Jadescu >> Greg replies, barely containing his fury.

<< Do you take it for granted that, as a good criminal, I will negotiate with justice, by providing information on my colleague for you much more important than me? >> he laughs at him.

<< You would be a fool if you didn't >>.

<< You're wrong, Inspector >> Jordan retorts harshly, throwing the mask of arrogance to show truer emotions. << You and I are dead men walking now >> he says with a trembling voice and Greg feels Jordan's fear, hidden behind the veil of anger he shows. << Whether you throw me in jail in the middle of the scum of the world or you offer me a suite at the expense of citizenship, Moriarty will find a way to kill me and not to prevent me from speaking, but to punish me for allowing your angels to reduce me so! >> he ends up gasping.

Jordan is visibly run down and certainly this conversation is not doing him any good, as underline the heart rate monitor, that starts to ring in an annoying way. Despite everything, however, the killer remains firm in his beliefs and to carry them forward.

<< Do you really think Moriarty is afraid of ending up in front of a judge? >> Jordan continues, in fact, abandoning his head on the pillow. << He would go of his own free will. He does not fear anything because he has hands everywhere. He rules at the place of the government >> he says, taking good care to underline these words.

<< However, Moriarty stay in the shadows and he doesn't get his hands dirty, as only the real powerful can do >> concludes Greg in his place, who has already heard the same reasoning from another's words. The boy nods and his gaze softens again.

<< You will never take him, do you understand it now? >> he says heartily. << I am just a pawn, just like you and your consultant friend. I'm sorry >> he says, looking away from Greg for the first time. Jordan be silent and for a moment he seems to have decided to end his harangue. However, he takes a new breath, giving Greg an embarrassed look.

<< When I invited you to the pub the other night, I didn't do it with the intention of setting you a trap, I want you to know this >> he whispers.

<< So why did you do it? >> Greg asks him, confused by the sudden change of topic, tone, mood and attitude of the boy. Jordan is silent and an embarrassed smile is drawn on his lips. Once again Greg sees his son in that face and his stomach closes.

<< Because I really liked you >> he admits, looking up to meet his. The way Jordan talk about himself and him, too, in the past, as if they were both already dead, freezes the blood in Greg's veins. << In a certain sense I also tried to divert you from the investigation. I didn't want you to get into even bigger trouble than others have thrown you into. And, although it may seem absurd to you, I was hoping to be the one to kill you, because I know how I work and I know it would have been quick and painless for you >>.

<< Thank you very much >> Greg ironizes, passing his hand over his shocked face. The boy chuckles and his gaze becomes even sweeter.

<< That evening I just wanted to spend time with you. I wanted to speak with you, get to know you better, like two normal people do. I wanted to carve out a piece of normalcy with you. That and ... nothing else. Unless you wanted ... more, of course. >> he adds, and then he laughs again at Greg amazed and embarrassed expression.

Greg shakes his head and, despite what he have said and the completely incredible general situation in which they are immersed, he feels tenderness for this boy.

<< You were a really good agent >> he says, taking him by surprise. << I'm really sorry to lose you in the team >> he adds to then get serious and get closer to his bed. << Andrej Jadescu, I declare you under arrest for infiltrating yourself under a false name, by pretending to be a police officer and for aiding in the criminal activities of James Moriarty! >> Greg declares and cuffs him to the bed frame.

The boy intercepts his hand and squeezes it in his.

<< It was an honor to meet you, Gregory >> he says smiling with emotion.

Greg has the feeling of sinking into those eyes wet with tears that will never fall. He quickly loosens that handshake and walks quickly to the door, followed by Donovan.

<< Three of you inside, the other three out here. Do not lose sight of him for any reason. I will hold you accountable for whatever happens to him. It's clear? >> his men welcome the order without batting an eyelid and divide as required, while he strides towards the hospital exit.

<< Greg where are you going? >> Donovan chases him, but he doesn't pay attention to her. << Stop! >> intimates her, but Greg has no intention of doing so. << I said stop! >> Sally insists, grabbing him by the arm. She forces him to turn to her and finds her upset and frightened. In all these years of working side by side, it's the first time Greg have seen her like this. << What's going on? What ... what you talking about? >> she asks.

Greg sighs and runs his hand over his face. It no longer makes sense to wonder if he can be trusted or not to her. By now it seems to him that nothing makes sense anymore, that the world has gone mad and that he is going to follow him. Greg looks around, grabs Sally hand with which she squeezes his arm and pulls her into the empty room in front of which they stopped. He closes the door and tries to figure out which way to start explaining the situation.

<< Why do you insist on doing everything alone and in secret? >> she asks him, with a small voice. Greg looks up to meet her infinitely sad gaze. << He got you into trouble, didn't he? In the end that freak managed to put you in danger >> Sally shakes her head and a tear rolls on her dark cheek.

<< I'm a detective and inspector of a homicide department, Sally. This alone is enough to constantly put me in danger >> Greg says, trying to set a tone. << The investigations that Sherlock have been conduct, are very important and what has come up in the laboratory is proof of how well founded his deductions are. The Jackson' case was only an excuse to find out. The situation is very delicate and dangerous and I would prefer that you stay out of this situation, for your safety, Sally >>.

Donovan looks at him in surprise and then puts on that expression of judgment that she usually wears when she is about to draw a conclusion, as always too hasty.

<< Now my safety is close to your heart >> she replies ironically. << I'm understanding, now, why I was so worried about you. God only knows how long I tell you to leave him alone! >>.

<< What you say makes no sense >> Greg replies, that he can not stand the way she is reporting everything to Sherlock.

<< No? >> she asks him, clasping her arms to her chest. << In the last few weeks I have seen you nervous, unfriendly, suspicious. I understood that there was something wrong and I thought it was for what is happening to you at home. Instead there is again the one behind all this mess. I wouldn't be surprised if I told myself that the killer infiltrated our team because of him >> she laughs, without realizing how much she touched the reality of the facts. << You can trust me, you know it >> she says getting closer.

Greg would like to answer that he cannot, that people all too easily betray the trust that he bestows. However, Greg cannot find the words. Finding out that he had been working side by side for months with the hired killer to kill him and, even earlier, being made aware of how this whole story started because of Mycroft's decision to save his brother, by getting rid of his father, stunned him, as had himself punched the killer.

Greg covers the distance that separates him from Sally with a half step and places his forehead against hers, taking her by surprise. He girds her with his arms and slowly embraces her, sinking his face into the hollow between the neck and the shoulder.

After a first moment of bewilderment, the woman accepts the affection request and embraces him in turn. Her hand slips through Greg's hair. Her face moves to meet his forehead and she put a light kiss on it. Greg realizes how much he needs these simple, sweet displays of affection. He never liked Sally. She is too aggressive, too stubborn, ready for easy sharp judgment, yet now he would spend the rest of the day in her arms.

"I am not well. Jesus, I'm really in a bad way ”he recognizes, tightening her even more. A sob escapes him and tries to suffocate it against her shoulder. From the kisses that Sally continues to give on his forehead, however, Greg realizes that he must not have gone unnoticed by the woman.

"I have to get away," he thinks, trying to overcome the pleasantness of his slow hand caressing his head. Greg slowly moves away, feeling his body heavy and reluctant to react. Sally continues to place light kisses on his forehead, then drops down his left temple, cheekbone, cheek. Their eyes meet and they remain suspended in the moment of tension that precedes the kiss.

<< In my opinion he has a crush on you >>.

<< Donovan, you wear well the fragrance of Anderson deodorant >>.

<< Yes, but now you're single, dad >>.

<< You are a beautiful man with whom it is worth trying >>.

The voices of George, Sherlock and Molly invade Greg's mind. The need for affection and physical closeness risks putting him in much more trouble than being prey to Moriarty.

Sally is getting closer to his lips and it would be so nice to allow himself this moment of estrangement. Greg misses kisses, those little effusions that are often overlooked to go immediately further. It's been a long time since he last found himself so close to a woman. Since the last time he felt the heat of another body on his skin. That he felt desired and loved.

"She doesn't love you," Sherlock's voice tells him.

"Love does not exist. It's just an illusion. Something that ends and exhausts you ” Greg replies, Sally breath warm against his face.

“You deserve better, Lestrade. You would only fall from the pan to the coals, bringing the troubles that you have at home even to the workplace. Do you really want to make Scotland Yard an unlivable place for you? ”.

Greg walks away, as if burned by the fire. He loosens his embrace and Sally takes a step back before he does it. She looks away, restarting the curly and thick hair behind the ear.

<< Go back to Scotland Yard and make sure that the case remains in our hands >> Greg says. << I will join you later >> he adds, walking towards the door.

<< Greg >> Sally calls him a moment before he opens it. << You don't have to prove anything to anyone >> she says.

Greg turns to her in amazement at his words. He doesn't know what Sally is referring to exactly. If She is telling him he doesn't have to prove Sherlock that he's a good detective. If she are referring to Greg's ability to stand up to his superiors and colleagues. The ability to carry on his life beyond the accusations of his ex-wife. To his being a good father.

Greg only knows that he has no words to reply to this observation. He leaves her there, alone in that empty room and prepares to face what many say is the most important man in England.

[1] Aluminum powder and additives that settles on papillary lines


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Greg enters the anonymous room of the Serendipity hotel in the Docks. He used to meet there ten years ago with his informant, a clandestine's racing bookie who ultimately lost his life for his shady deals. It is still a safe place, free of possible bedbugs, if not the natural ones equipped with legs and wings, and CCTV cameras both inside the structure and along the road. For this reason, Greg decided to send to Anthea a message with the address, the name of the hotel, the time he proposed for the meeting and the phrase 'I want you, do not make me wait' written in capital letters.

The simple 'I'll be there' came as an answer even before Greg got here. The hotelier knows him and knows why he occasionally comes to ask for a room.

<< Leave the room clean and don't break anything >> the hotelier said bored. A phrase that he used to repeat to prostitutes who bring their clients there, to lovers looking for a den, to the many desperate souls who come to the worm-eaten reception counter.

There are twenty minutes left at 10, the proposed time for this informal meeting during which Greg wants to assert his reasons. He hopes to be able to manage the fury that he has inside and that he feels close to the explosion. He does not like the idea of punching Sherlock's brother very much, because he hopes that Mycroft will arrive and that he will not just send his secretary.

"I don't know what to do with her!" Greg thinks, sitting down on the ramshackle chair that he takes from the desk. He doesn't even think about sitting on the bed. Nor does he want to know what people are used to doing on those bedspreads, which certainly are not washed at the right temperature to be considered sanitized.

Greg feels suffocated. He has so much confusion within himself that he feels a sense of claustrophobia, the same that usually people live in a small environment full of objects and so much disorder. Takes his breath away. He feels nausea. It makes his head spin. The sense of orientation and also that of balance are lost. Not only the physical one, but also the mental one.

Greg closes his eyes, rests his elbows over his knees and presses his hands against his ears. He seeks silence to bring order. It is time to dress in an apron, arm himself with a rag and start giving a nice fix. Like his mother did every spring. Greg could hear her singing with her beautiful melodious voice as she vacuumed, moved furniture, made beds, cleaned in corners of the house so hidden that she wondered if it really was worth it.

"So, Gregory, where do we start?" she asks him now and Greg sees her so clear before his eyes that she seems so real.

"I feel like a death row inmate who does not know when the sentence will be executed and has been left to go mad in a cell," he replies and a sob escapes from his chapped lips.

'Walking dead', so Jadescu defined himself and Greg. His life is in the hands of a madman's whims and this is the thing that most of all generates despair. As a child Greg found comfort to his fears in his mother's arms. Arms accustomed to work, which knew how to be delicate around his slender body. Now it is Margaret's face that appears before his eyes. Her arms that held him giving him comfort when the cases were complex, his colleagues assholes and the desperate situation.

"You can't go to her, Gregory," his peremptory mother tells him. She knew how to be categorical when she put something on her head and it was enough for him to find on her face that wrinkle that wrinkled her forehead to understand that there was no chance.

“Margaret accused me of no longer sharing my investigations with her, of no longer considering her opinion important. If I went to her and told her everything, maybe ... ".

"She would go against you and use this story as an extra motivation to take your kids off, Gregory." The wrinkle becomes deeper, as does the truth of her observation. Another sob escapes the detective's lips.

<< They are… burning me >> he whispers and finds no other way to describe what he feels. For all this time the image that associated with Margaret's behavior has been that of his heart slowly torn to pieces. It is not, however, a destruction that Greg feels. He manages to move, to stand, to work ... no, there is nothing that is breaking. The despair he feels is not destroying him. It is consuming him like a piece of paper that has been set on fire. Gradually it blackens, curls, defeated by the flames, until it is completely consumed. All that's left is just ash, flaking at the slightest breath of wind.

Greg has been slowly burning for a year. Constantly. In some periods the sensation is less strong, in others the flame increases, destroying larger portions of him. The dehydrated part comes off forming a heap of gray ash on the ground. There is no wind, however, to disperse this pile that represents what Greg was. As if fate would let him see what he has lost. Who did it. How he let them get it down.

Greg wonders why he has come this far. For love? For cowardice? For fear? He cannot answer this question. It happened and he did nothing to stop it, perhaps because he didn't realize it. Or rather it would be to say that he did not know how to cope with what was happening.

Greg's father has always worked. His job was to bring home the money and Greg was already wondering as a child what sense it had to start a family if then to maintain it you have to break your back all day without enjoying it. When his father came home from work Greg was already in bed. When he got up in the morning to go to school, his father had already gone out. They only saw each other on Sunday, the day they all managed to have two meals together. However, they never spoke.

When Greg was a child, his father spoke and he listened to him, intrigued by his voice and the way he pronounced the words, rather than what he said. That voice that he heard so little.

As a teenager his father spoke and Greg thought about homework, rugby matches, friends, girls.

Then suddenly his father stopped talking and Greg realized he didn't even know what he had said all these years. He only missed his voice. Little can say about the presence, because his father was never present. For him it has always been the voice of Sunday. Then there was only silence.

Greg has said to himself, therefore, that if he had really found someone to start a family with, he would have done everything not to be just a voice. Evidently, however, that was not his way. Maybe he should have just kept asking himself what sense the family made and if he really wanted to build one. Greg should have also, perhaps, declared himself married to his job, like Sherlock.

He remembers laughing when John told him this. At the same time, however, he thought it was a brilliant solution. Work does not betray, first of all. It may have ups and downs, more difficult periods and other simpler ones, but it always remains faithful. When Greg signed the hiring contract he was aware of the risks and dangers that, by becoming a policeman in charge of the homicide team, he could have run. When he signed the marriage contract, however, he did not know these things. He was not a fool to think that he and Margaret would be together forever, because that the stories could end he knew it well.

Greg did not know, however, that he would live in hell. That the woman who said she loved him would treat him as his worst enemy, determined to exterminate him. That he would have lost everything they had built together and would have to find themselves picking up the pieces of a life, throwing them in the garbage and starting all over again. That Margaret would threaten to take away his children, the creatures they had sworn to love and protect together.

<< I can't just throw everything away >> Greg whispers and the image of a box full of objects that represent this part of his life appears before his eyes.

“Well, Gregory. What do we put in the next? " his mother asks him, wiping her hands on her apron.

If he had not met Sherlock in his path, that box would not have been and should not prepare the second, in which to store these last six years.

"So is it all that boy's fault?" his mother asks him and Greg finds out he is nodding. Another sob escapes from his lips.

<< I'm an asshole! >> Greg whispers, his throat choked by the sadness. Although he has told himself, Mycroft, his son and Donovan that the consultant has no blame, Greg discovers he thinks otherwise.

"If I had Sherlock here I would slap him, punch him, kick him... I would reduce him worse than he was reduced ...".

Greg leaves the thought suspended and opens the eyes dazzled by an illumination. If Moriraty has targeted Sherlock it is to use him against Mycroft, guaranteeing himself the puppet through which he can rule. If the most important man in England, however, had not committed the crime thanks to which the criminal blackmailed him, Sherlock would never have had the opportunity to create the still unique figure of the consulting detective. Greg would never have known him and perhaps his marriage would not have failed.

"So it's all this other man's fault?" his mother asks him and he doesn't know what to answer, because his safety would have depended on Sherlock's death. Greg doesn't know if he wants to give voice to this thought. This guy has helped him on many occasions. Of course, now he is caught in the middle of this mess, however, he considers him a friend and thanks to him he met John with whom he really created a beautiful friendship.

"So, Greg, what do we do?" his mother impatiently asks him.

Two knocks on the door herald the arrival of his guest. Greg gets to his feet and, without realizing it, he puts his jacket and his hair in order before going to open the door. Mycroft Holmes is the one who finds himself in front. Him and no one else.

Greg says nothing to him, merely opening the door wide and inviting him to enter with a gesture of his arm. Even Mycroft says nothing. He enters with slow steps, looking around in horror.

<< Really a great place for a meeting >> he points out, giving the idea of even breathing as little as possible so as not to contaminate himself with the infected air of this place.

<< It is safe and I thought you liked safety more than form >>. The man is limited to a grimace followed by a mumble.

They remain standing a couple of meters away. They observe each other, how they played at the first one that collapsed.

<< Are you going to stay there and look at me for a long time? >> Mycroft asks him, annoyed by his silence. << I moved a meeting to run here >>.

<< What honor >> Greg ironizes, making a half bow. << You told me you didn't know who Moriarty's infiltrators were at Scotland Yard >> he says, between the teeth, at the government man, who supports his gaze. << After a useless evening spent in the pub I receive a phone call in the middle of the night, in which a bobby told that one of my agents was the victim of an aggression a few meters from my house. Coincidentally, it is precisely that man I hoped to meet. The same that I discover is a killer, miraculously saved by the excellent doctors of the hospital >> Greg underlines and Mycroft grimaces dissent.

<< Why did you lie to me? >> Greg asks, trying to keep anger under control.

<< To protect you from yourself, Gregory >> he replies resolutely.

<< I am not a princess to defend >> he shout, losing control. << I'm an inspector of the homicide team. I won't have the intelligence of the Holmes', but I am able to do my job and I can't stand being treated like an idiot! >>.

<< Jadescu had been ordered to kill you >> says Mycroft calmly. << I couldn't let you serve him on a silver plate in that pub. I don't think that try to save your life is treat you like an idiot >>.

<< Lying to me, thinking that I can't handle the situation: this is to treat me like an idiot! >> Greg says approaching him one step.

<< But you can't handle the situation! >> retorts Mycroft, sketching a smile. << If you hadn't gotten in the way by making that man's identity public, I could have explaned it to Moriarty as an aggression that took place for the other thousand shady trades Jadescu managed. Now, instead, it is clear that I tried to protect you, damn>>.

<< Jadescu told me that he was not the only one who Moriarty order to kill me >> Greg shouts, approaching another step. << Moriarty entrusts the same prey to several people >>.

<< I had them all under control, I could have eliminated them one at a time >>.

<< So did you know this too? >> Greg asks horrified.

<< Of course I knew! Now Moriarty has shuffled the cards and it is damn difficult to learn about his plans! >>.

Greg runs his hand over his shocked face. The way this man is facing the conversation closes his stomach. Mycroft's methods are gruesome, like his cold reasonings, which lead people to problems to be eliminated or managed, deciding their lives as if they were the pawns on a chessboard. This same man is telling him that he wants to protect him by killing for him, but this thing cannot make him feel grateful, much less safe. Sherlock is the one who lost his mind for a man willing to kill to save him, not Greg. Such a person would frighten him, because as he had the coldness to shoot his potential killer he could also have it to turn the weapon against him. And even if this were not the case, Greg does not want to feel in such a debt of gratitude. Greg's mother used to say that whoever saves a life becomes master of it. Greg understood this phrase as becoming responsible for the saved life. In front of Mycroft Holmes, he can only read it, instead, as becoming a slave to him, tied to him by that debt of eternal gratitude.

<< Why didn't you tell me about all this? >> he asks, feeling infinitely tired.

<< What would it have served, if not to make you even more anxious? >> he replies.

<< Anxiety comes to me at the idea of having to be grateful to you >> Greg says, supporting his gaze. << Now I understand why Sherlock doesn't want to have anything to do with you >> he adds and Mycroft's eyelids thin, struck by his words. << You are willing to kill in order to save the situation, but then you bind whoever you save to your morbid control. I'm not there, Mycroft >> he says, taking another step towards him.

<< Greg, I can imagine what you're feeling ... >>.

<< You what? >> Greg interrupts him chuckling. << You cannot imagine anything, because you are unable to prove anything! >> Greg shouts, covering the distance that separates them with a step. He finds himself face to face with Mycroft, who, expressionlessly, supports his accusations. Greg remains silent, breathless by his own words. << The solution cannot be to kill. It is never to kill. Even if it's about dangerous people, Mycroft. And it is not even controlling one's neighbor to protect him from all the evils of the world, without realizing, in doing so, to prevent him from living, to be free, to commit even his mistakes, fall and learn to get up, fuck! >> Greg says so fast that he is breathless before Mycroft, that he always looks at him impassively. << I wonder how you can sleep at night >>.

<< Who tells you that I can do it? >> Mycroft replies seriously. << If I have a problem I will eliminate it, Greg. I do not mind the fact of having eliminated it, as much as that it was raised and that I had to manage it. This is a source of annoyance for me >>.

<< Sorry, then, to have been a nuisance for you. It was not in my plans >> Greg retorts and for the first time Mycroft looks away.

<< You are not a nuisance for me, Greg. As I have already told you, I am sorry that because of us you are finding yourself in this unpleasant situation >>.

<< It's not an 'unpleasant situation', Myc. It's a damn shitty situation, this one! >> specifies Greg, hitting Mycroft on the shoulder with his hand. He then brings it to his face to shield his eyes. << I was sitting here on that chair, before you came, and I wondered how far I have to be angry with you for saving your brother by deciding to eliminate your father >> he whispers.

<< Well, given the point where we arrived, you would have all the reasons >> Mycroft whispers in turn.

<< Of course I would >> nods Greg. << If you had let your father have Sherlock killed, perhaps my marriage would still be up and running and I certainly would not find myself used as a pawn for Moriarty blackmail. See, this is what I don't like, Mycroft >> he says, looking him in the eye. << Starting to think that my life would have been better if your brother had died doesn't make me very different from people like Jadescu, Moriarty or even you >> he says and again Mycroft looks away from him. << However, I care about your brother, although because of him I lost my family and also I risk losing my own life. I don't want the way you and that criminal can lead me to hate him, because Sherlock doesn't deserve it. Your brother only deserves to be loved, because despite behaving like a perfect asshole, he ever give all of himself for the people he cares about and I'm proud to be among them >>.

Mycroft studies him for a long time and Greg supports his gaze, sure of his truth. He then sees him open up into a smile that dares to be moved.

<< It is true that you are a better brother than me >> he whispers. << Your ex-wife exchanged admiration for love >>.

Greg blushes and doesn't even wonder how Mycroft gets to know about a conversation that took place within the home walls of what was once his home.

<< It was made of fantasies without any foundation >> it is important for him to underline. << I ... I have my responsibilities. I should have put limits on Sherlock's impetuosity and also on my need for his help. Since I know him I have not been able to do without addressing him immediately, rather than investigating on my own >>.

<< Oh, please, get out of your head the idea of not knowing how to do your job >> Mycroft says, anticipating his own self-judgmental and devaluing thought. << Like me also Sherlock thinks that you are the best detective that Scotland Yard has in charge at the moment and you know well what the idea that Sherlock has of the Yardes is >> Mycroft smiles and Greg nods smiling in turn. << As for Sherlock, putting limits on him is like wanting to take water in hand, Greg >>.

<< John succeeds >>.

<< John Watson is one of the mysteries of God >> sighs Mycroft.

Greg looks at him with a lot of eyes and then lets the laughter burst out loud. The fact that Mycroft Holmes made a joke is even more fun than the joke itself. To his amazement, Greg hears Mycroft join him in laughter and they go on for a long time, breaking the heavy and oppressive tension that had created between them.

<< Oh my, I wanto to sign this sentence and bring it back as soon as I see John >> Greg says wiping his wet eyes. He then returns serious and even Mycroft takes the smile off his lips. << Jadescu said that we will never eliminate Moriarty. He's right, isn't he? >> he asks Mycroft, asking him the question that disturbs him most of all.

<< Yes >> Mycroft nods without going around too much.

<< I should have imagined it. You fear him and if you thought him a solvable problem you wouldn't have wasted in fear of him >> he says and Holmes seems to appreciate his reasoning and be amazed at the same time. << We can't do anything, then? >>.

<< Sherlock is convinced that he will find a way to dismantle Moriarty's net by directly crushing the spider and those Spaniards are agree with him >> Mycroft answers skeptically.

<< You, instead, are more pessimistic >>.

<< I am a realist, Greg and the reality of the facts leads me to see a situation that needs to be resolved, undoubtedly, but that is not at all easy to solve. Every move I make is controlled, every attempt I make, every possible escape route blocked >>.

<< So how did you manage to reduce Jadescu like that? How did you come here? >>.

<< Jadescu was already digging the pit with his hands, Greg >> reveals to him, with a look that says a lot. The detective catches the subtext. The boy had told him that he somehow wanted to prevent him from carrying out his investigations. He was infatuating of Greg and, trying to protect him, the killer signed his death sentence.

<< So Moriarty allowed you to act because he had already decided to eliminate him >>.

<< That's right. And, as regards my being here today, it is possible for me to have small space for maneuver, which Moriarty punctually slams me in the face with his bad habit of playing 'I caught you'. He understood, however, that we are in contact and that you now know that you are in danger. Moriarty also knows that Sherlock and John are a couple, now, and this disruption of his original plans has made him nervous. I can't handle anything anymore because all of you are moving too much. Before this damned investigation on the Felix portal, I still managed to protect all of you and keep the situation under control. Now, instead >> Mycroft pass his hand over his tired face, leaving the sentence in suspense.

Greg observes him, feeling a strange feeling of compassion. In a certain sense, he sees himself in this man who tries to keep everything together, even though everything is collapsing around him. The power entails responsibility. It must not be easy for Mycroft to allow a madman to manage his life, knowing that he is obliged to make decisions by putting his face and signature on it. Mycroft is also burning. It is his head the first that would jump, if something went wrong or surfaced, for better or for worse.

<< A few hours ago I was asked why I insist on doing everything by myself and in secret. I realize that I am asking you the same question now >>.

<< I would give your same answer >> Mycroft replies with a smile.

The only answer Greg could give to that question is to want to protect others and the awareness of not being able to trust anyone outside of himself. Yes, from what he is learning about Mycroft, he can say that, in fact, he too would answer that way.

<< I think that woman wanted the same thing from you that you asked me: to be involved in this story in order to make her contribution to the cause. I think she is moved, however, also by a more ... romantic feeling >> says Mycroft, saying the last word almost with disgust.

<< A feeling that I don't share >> exclaims Greg, annoyed by the discovery of how Mycroft is also aware of this thing. << I admit that I needed a hug. I'm not experiencing the most idyllic of moments, as you know >> he says, passing his hand over his face. << I wanted, however, to avoid falling from the pan into the embers. She is not the right woman for me. Oh Lord, I don't even know if 'the right woman' it exists >> Greg chuckles, disconsolate. << I thought I had found 'my right woman' and, instead, she left me, thinking that I had fallen in love with a man. And if the doubts I have about George should start having her too, I will also find myself accused of having plagiarized my son with my immoral behaviors >> he laughs to tears, which dries up while continuing to laugh.

Greg felt the need to clarify his position on what happened with Donovan and he seems to feel the voice of her that must not prove anything to anyone. However, he doesn't feel he has to prove anything.

He just needs to talk, share, let off steam and right now this glacial man seems like an excellent listener. The conversation then turns to his ex-wife and children, who are constantly at the center of his thoughts. Other than Moriarty, the origin of his problems and concerns is his family now broken.

Mycroft looks at him with a strange expression on his face, something like compassion. Greg could not even imagine that this man was capable of such a feeling.

<< How it was for you to find out that your brother… >> he asks him, leaving the sentence in the middle. Greg realizes that the road he has chosen to go is completely away from that has led them there, but he discovers that he does not care. On balance, Greg feels that Mycroft is may be the only one who can help him to understand how to behave with his son, for the simple fact that he has already passed with his brother.

<< I admit I didn't understand him. Oh my, I don't understand him even now >> Mycroft admits, sketching a smile. << I was only afraid for him >> he says and this time it is just tenderness what Greg sees in his face. << This world is terrible for those who are considered 'different' >> Mycroft says, placing emphasis on this word. << Whether it is due to a physical impairment, an excess or lack of intelligence or a sexual orientation other than what is considered 'normal', everything becomes more difficult. We are to much intelligent and this is our cross >> he says and Greg would never have expected to hear he called 'our cross', their gift.

<< I was afraid that ignorant people could kill him or push him to kill himself. I'm not just talking about our father, but about everyone else, this absurd society in which we live. And I was afraid that they would take advantage of him, of his naivety, of his disproportionate need for love. All things that have happened, unfortunately >> Mycroft sighs heartily. << I can understand your fear, Greg >> he says, turning his gaze to him. << He is my brother and I constantly live in fear that something might happen to him, and it is terrible to think that what he is can lead him to find himself in danger. It shouldn't be that way for anyone. I can imagine how much you fear for your child's safety. George, however, is still a boy >>.

Greg feels his stomach freed from the grip that forced him to a constant tension. In his words Mycroft has expressed Greg's fears and knowing that he is not the only one to try them encourages him. He sighs, feeling lighter although still confused.

<< Yes, I also thought that it could only be a phase of discovery. There would be nothing wrong with that. There is nothing wrong even if then ... but it is as you say, Myc. I'm scared. And selfishly I'm afraid for me too, for the accusations without any logic that his mother could make me. You can not imagine how it is ... oh Lord, I can not even say what >> Greg says shaking his head, in a desperate attempt to put order. << That woman ... my woman, the mother of my children got a totally wrong idea of me and this has me ... is driving me crazy >> says, sinking his hands in his hair. << To know that she may have left me for this ... oh Jesus, you have no idea the amount of doubts that put me in the head. I started to wonder how far I have not given her a way to think about this thing >>.

<< And you allowed a goliardic episode that occurred years ago with a colleague of yours to send you into confusion >> says Mycroft, and a shiver runs through Greg's back.

<< What do you know about Jo? You can't have deduced this too! >>.

<< Actually yes, but following the careful research that I conducted about you when we met the first time >>.

Greg wonders what these searches are like and how Mycroft got the results, but then decides he doesn't even want to think about these things anymore.

<< I don't like knowing at all that you know more about me than I know >> he says impatiently and now he knows how Sherlock feels and why he is so much in anger with his brother. << Jesus, I only recovered that memory a few days ago >>.

<< Then leave it where it is and do not worry >> Mycroft replies as if nothing had happened. << I apologize for this intrusion in your life >> he adds before Greg can explode. << I realize that I have been indelicate to bring it out like this. I don't know to deal with people, Gregory. In this Sherlock is definitely far ahead of me and ... well, you know how he behaves >>.

<< Yes, I know >> Greg retorts. That admission of guilt manages to calm his fury. << You already told me how difficult the concept of friendship is for you, let alone that of love >>.

<< I don't understand the need for involvement with the other, man or woman. I do not understand how someone can search for something that only brings trouble >> Mycroft says, making a grimace of contempt. << I mean, look at yourself >>, he says, pointing him with both hands, << you, a strong, intelligent and capable man, reduced in these conditions due to a badly ended relationship and a stupid woman to the point of undertaking a real war against the man she said she loved, for a matter of pride, jealousy and principle. I worry about my brother, but, in fact, he is my brother, not a stranger who until yesterday was nobody and whom I decided to love madly, taking on all the consequences. Am I so wrong if I say that I find all this absurd? >>.

<< No. In fact, no, you're not wrong >> Greg nods seriously. << You, therefore… have you never fallen in love? >>.

Mycroft stiffens at that question. He goes back to the role of mister government and Greg feels he has asked the wrong question.

<< Sorry, this time it was my turn of indiscretion >> Greg says, satisfied with having taken off a pebble from the shoe.

<< I am used to the curiosity of others about my person and my habits, Gregory. I see it constantly in the faces of people around me >> Mycroft replies, who seems to have softened again. << I think that this thing that you insist on calling 'love' is nothing other than the search in the other for a fulfillment of one's own need >>.

<< The death of romanticism >> Greg chuckles. << So in your opinion, if I meet a woman and I fall in love with her I do it because this satisfies my need. And I guess you don't refer to sexual needs >>.

<< No, I refer to other less carnal needs. Like what happened between you and Donovan. You embraced her not so much because you feel love for her, but because you needed a moment of affection. From what I have been able to analyze, many relationships are born like this >> he says assuming the tone of a professor who explains the lesson to the student. << It is called 'love' something that is not love. Think if, paradoxically, now you would started a relationship with that woman. You would feel nothing for her except the desire to stand in her arms and receive warmth and affection. In order not to lose this, you could accept sides of her character that you don't like and compromises that put you in a tight spot. All in order not to lose that embrace and that affection. Things that over time could turn into emotional blackmail on your part or start to fade on your part. You could find another woman willing to give you much more affection, and it is known that we go where our need is more and better satisfied >>.

Greg reflects for a moment about Mycroft's words, which have the effect of opening up real worlds in his head and belly.

<< Maggie accused me of not having shared any doubts about my cases with her since I met Sherlock. She felt put aside, not considered by me. It is possible that the need I satisfied for her was that of 'feeling important' and she, instead, gave satisfaction to my need to be listened to and reassured. Your brother, with his perspicacity, has more satisfied this need in the job. Oh my ... so said it seems that I lived only and always in function of my work >>.

<< What's wrong with that? >> Mycroft asks him, shrugging.

<< Well ... I had a family. I have two sons. The work is important but ... >>.

<< Where do you really feel well with yourself, Greg? >>.

The detective realizes that he immediately thought of his office, his job, his investigations. He looks down, feeling deeply guilty.

<< This doesn't make you a bad father >> Mycroft tells him, catching his thoughts. << You made me understand how possible it is to have a passion, an interest, and carry it forward while continuing to be present for your children and take care of them. Even if sometimes you leave them to escape behind a case you know you are there for them and, believe me, I know well what is an absent parent >>.

<< Me too, Myc. My father was always away on business and I ... I don't want the same thing to happen. The more Maggie told me to be absent and to live only for my job, the more I tormented myself, prey to the idea of becoming like him >>.

<< Instead you are not, Greg. A child who feels abandoned does not behave as your children do with you >>.

Even the heart seems to have lightened by many weights, thanks to the words of Mycroft. Greg realizes how wrong he was in thinking it cold, detached, calculating. What Mycroft said was anything but cold. With formal ways, of course, and without too many frills and carineries, without prejudice to the sincere smiles that he occasionally let slip.Greg thinks he judged him too quickly from the cover and his hyper-controlling and suffocating ways and realizes how much he would like to meet him more often.

<< You know, Myc, I must say that it is interesting to talk with you. I came here with the desire to tear you to pieces and now, instead, I come out lighter and even, in some respects, reassured. Have I fallen victim to your powerful ability to manipulate others? >>.

Mycroft's cell phone rings and he apologizes, takes it and checks the message received. His face tightens and closes his eyes, giving the idea that what he has received is not exactly good news.

Greg doesn't have time to ask him anything that his phone rings. He takes it and sees Donovan's name flash on the display. He exchanges a glance with Mycroft and the latter, nodding, invites him to reply.

<< What's up, Sally? >> he asks keeping his gaze fixed on Holmes.

<< Jordan ... I mean Jadescu >>.

<< What happened to him? >>.

<< We kept an eye on him and only qualified doctors and nurses entered. No one else has approached him, I'm more than sure, so it can only have been a natural event ... >>.

<< What happened to him, Sally? >> Greg insists already knowing the answer.

<< He is dead >> says the woman, and her discomfort in giving him this news is clear. << The doctor says it may have been a cardiac arrest. His condition was bad. After what you said, however ... I will check all the doctors and nurses and make sure that none of them has been to ... >>.

<< Leave it alone, Sally >> Greg interrupts her, running his hand over his face.

<< But ... how? >> she replies evidently amazed.

<< I'll go to the morgue to see what will come out of the autopsy >> he says, already knowing that nothing will come out that would give them the opportunity to report the murder.

<< Are you okay? >> Sally asks him in an uncertain voice.

<< Not at all >> he answers annoyed to that obvious question and ends the call without adding anything else.

<< I will be next. Isn't that right, Mycroft? >> Greg asks him, unable to look him in the eye.

<< It is not said, Greg >> he replies, placing his hand on Greg's shoulder.

<< I can't help but go on, I guess >> Greg sighs with a smile.

<< That's right >>.

Mycroft hand tightens slightly and his eyes seem sad. Greg thinks about how frustrating it must be for a man used to managing everything, not being able to give certain answers.

<< Thank you for the chat, Myc. I hope to be able as soon as possible not to have to look for safe places to be able to have others with you >>

<< I hope so too, Gregory >> he says. Mycroft takes his hand away from Greg's shoulder and holds it out. Greg looks at it for a long time and then decides to ignore it.

<< You seem to know everything about me, even things that are obscure to myself >> he says, taking Mycroft by surprise. << I want that you know also this >> Greg adds and throws his arms around Mycroft's neck, holding him in an embrace. << How pleasant it can be to receive a hug. I'm only reevaluating it now, after ignoring many and finding myself not having any more. To seek them, even from the wrong people, begging for attention. I don't like it, but for now this is my need and I feel that somewhere it is yours too >>.

Mycroft's arms, long and stiff at the sides, barely move. Greg doesn't expect that him respond to the embrace. He really doesn't expect anything, not even that Mycroft understands his intent. He squeezes him only with all his strength and then loosens his grip and stays there, his left cheek resting on Mycroft's left shoulder and that sense of lightness that his words have given him.

It happens slowly and almost scares. Mycroft's hands rest lightly on his shoulders. He senses that starched stiffness of which he always seems prey, to soften slightly and a sigh escapes from Mycroft's lips.

<< Thanks, Gregory >> he whispers against his shoulder and Greg has an unexpected feeling of euphoria. He feels that it is even too much and for this reason he decides to dissolve the embrace slowly. Avoid Mycroft's gaze. Without saying anything he grabs his jacket and goes to the door. He opens it and exits, leaving the most powerful man in England alone in that squalid room.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Greg stares at the pale face of the man who called Andrew Jordan for months. He lies relaxed, naked and exposed to any type of judgment from which he can no longer defend himself. Fortunately for him, the superintendent expressly requested, given the importance of the situation, that his autopsy be performed immediately by the morgue manager.

Molly treats the corpses that come to her operating table with infinite respect. It doesn't matter who they were when they were alive, or what led them to her presence, and perhaps because of the list of crimes that make up this man's curriculum, it's an even too important treatment.

The pathologist is doing her job, immersed to the elbows in the killer's open trunk. She is silent, focused, impeccably professional and there is no trace of her usual embarrassment, nor of the self-conscious being that has always seen her.

Greg looks at her admired, overcome by the nausea that always takes him in front of an open corpse. Usually he talks to break the tension, but this time he has no argument. Or rather, of things to talk about he would have, but would risk making Molly aware of dangerous secrets.

<< It is a miracle that he did not die following the shooting >> says the girl, pronouncing the first sentence after more than half an hour of silence.

<< Is it possible, therefore, that he died later, despite the doctor judging the operation successful? >> he asks and the girl turns to him. The worried look, she takes off her blood-soaked gloves and lab coat.

<< This man >> she says, looking the corpse in the face. << He was a killer who infiltrated your team >>.

<< Yes >> Greg confirms her, breaking the silence in which she closed herself, her eyes still fixed on Jadescu's face.

<< In your team, Greg >> Molly repeats, turning her beautiful eyes to him. << Not in Dimmock's or Gregson's team, but in yours >>.

<< Yes >> Greg repeats, supporting her gaze full of doubts and questions. Molly restart the lock of hair behind her ear and bite her lip, uncertain between giving voice to these thoughts or not.

<< All this has to do with Moriarty, isn't it? >> she asks him approaching a few steps.

<< Molly, you better not ask me any more questions >>.

<< Tell me the truth! >> she insists, despite the advice. Her eyes are determined and Greg sees his same determination in them to ask Mycroft the same request.

He just nods and sees her turn pale. She quickly turns her gaze to the body and then rests it again on him and she is scared

<< A killer ... >> she whispers. << To kill ... who? >> she asks him, just leaning towards him, a sign that she already has the answer to that question.

<< Molly ... >>.

<< Who? >> she insists, bringing him close. Greg can't keep her gaze and moving it elsewhere seems to be enough for her as an answer. Molly grabs both of Greg's hands and squeezes them tightly taking him by surprise. << It's for Sherlock, isn't it? >> she asks him and apparently Greg was wrong. Greg thought that he could be important for her to the point of leading her to think that he could be the target of a man sent by Moriarty to infiltrate his team.

<< No, Molly, Sherlock wasn't his target >>.

<< Yes, I know >> she replies, capturing his intention. << I meant that this man was ordered to infiltrate your team to ... to eliminate you >> she says in one breath, making Greg's heart lose a blow. << You are important to Sherlock >> she adds. Her gaze softens and her face turns red, as always when the topic revolves around the consultant. << For what other reason, then, could Moriarty want you dead? Sherlock caused you another problem and this time much more serious than the first one >> she whispers and Greg realizes that that sweetness and that blush are for him and not for the consultant.

<< And also for this you can not blame him, except to consider me a friend >> he says and the girl nods, closing her eyes. She sighs and renews the grip on his hands.

<< How are you? >> she asks him and he laughs. Greg tries to stifle laughter, but without success. The girl remains serious. She looks at him worried and has no intention of joining her fake cheerfulness.

<< Nothing can be done, Molly >> he says, continuing to laugh. << That bastard is powerful. To the point that even Mycroft does not believe it is possible to get rid of him. Moriarty has his hands everywhere and where he doesn't have them, he can still get there without problems. Jadescu is not the only infiltrator to Scotland Yard >> Greg says, looking at the corpse. << And he wasn't even the only one to stay over me >>.

<< Do you mean that there are others? >> she asks, becoming even paler. Greg laughs even louder, nodding.

<< And I made a mess by revealing the identity of Jaduscu, according to Mycroft, because now Moriarty will change them. If before Mycroft knew who they were, now he will no longer be able to help me. I'm a walking dead, Molly. Jadescu said it before he was killed: 'we are walking dead, Inspector' >> he repeats and the laughter fades suddenly. << Walking dead >> he repeats sighing.

<< You're alive, Greg >> says Molly, shaking his hands. << You are still alive >> she repeats, looking at him with decision. << Do not live as if you were already dead, even if everything gives you to think that it is >>.

Greg nods and softens her determination. He realizes that Molly is right: he is still alive and he can still do things before 'being executed'.

<< Can I ask you something, Molly? >> he says and she nods. << I understand what you tell me and I want to follow your advice. However, I must also bear in mind the fact that I have this sword of Damocles on my head that I don't know when whoever holds it will decide to drop it. If it happens >> he says and feels Molly stiffen through his hands, which this time he is holding. << I want you to take care of me >>.

The girl shakes her head hard.

<< You can't ask me this, I could never ... >>.

<< You respect the corpses you care for >> Greg interrupts her, holding her hands in his. << And I want to know that the hands that will touch me for the last time know how to be delicate >>.

The girl nods, although it is clear on her face that she doesn't even want to imagine the possibility of finding him lifeless on the operating table. She free one hand from his grasp and brings it to Greg's face, stroking it slowly.

<< My gentle touch you can appreciate it now that you are alive. Not when you will be ... >> Molly says, taking a look at the corpse behind them.

<< What can you tell me about him? >> Greg asks, feeling the need to return to more formal subjects.

<< Nothing that can help you declare him a murder victim >> she sighs, shaking her head. << The heart stopped beat cause of an heart attack and even if the blood tests that I delivered to the laboratory showed altered values, I could not demonstrate that something was injected to cause it >>.

<< Like digital for Gregson >> says Greg and the girl nods. << I know, however, that he was killed >>.

<< There are no signs of recent bites beyond those on the arm where the IV was inserted >>.

<< They must have passed directly from there, then >>.

<< It is possible. It will still be difficult to prove anything, Greg >>.

<< The investigation has now started. I'm going to interrogate the staff and look at the CCTV footage. Someone must have been and I will find him, and I don't care how difficult, according to Mycroft, it is to stop that criminal >> he says, beating his fist against his own hand. Molly smiles smugly.

<< This is the right spirit, Inspector >> she says, placing a new caress on Greg's cheek. Her hand smells like talcum powder which she must have put on in her gloves. It is warm and pleasant to feel on the skin. This time Greg closes his eyes to better taste their presence and when he reopens them she is still there, satisfied with her ideas.

<< I discovered something these days >> Greg says, placing his hand on hers. Molly senses the arrival of another secret. << Sherlock is gay, Molly >> he whispers, taking her by surprise. << The rumors about him and John ... well, they are not just rumors. I don't think Sherlock'll ever tell you. I don't think he'll ever tell anyone. He must have suffered a lot for revealing this truth in the past >> Molly's eyes rise towards him full of curiosity, but she asks for nothing more. << But that's the way it is and I think it's better for you to stop challenging yourself and move on >>.

<< Thanks, Greg >> she says smiling sweetly. << I've always known. But you know ... it is difficult to digest the fact that such a beautiful specimen plays more in your favor than in ours >>. They laugh at that joke, breaking the tension. << And anyway ... I had already decided to let go with that challenge >> she says blushing. << I'm done here. It will take me about twenty minutes to close it and if you want to wait we could have lunch together >> she asks, becoming bold. Greg has an unusual satisfaction at the thought of having defeated the consultant at least in this.

<< I think it's dangerous to stay next to me, Molly >> Greg says, moving away from her who, however, does not let him go.

<< What you wanto to do then? Lock yourself in the house and don't go out for the rest of your days, since Mr. Holmes thinks this madman cannot be eradicated? John and Sherlock left for Spain together. They have not separated, and I think James gets more knowledge of the two of them together than of us >> Molly says and then blushes, as if she realized she had said too much.

Greg smiles and finds that she is right. He had also thought of making excuses for not seeing his children, but he could never go on lying for long without making them suspicious or risking losing them altogether.

The phone rang in the hall, as if it were empty. The detective rummages in his pockets, worried about yet another bad news. An unknown number appears on the display. Greg exchanges a look with Molly, who invites him to answer, worriedly.

<< Mister Lestrade? >> asks for an unknown nasal voice.

<< Yes, it's me. Who's talking? >>.

<< I am the directrice of your son's school. I ask you to come here immediately >> she says sternly.

<< What happened? >> Greg asks worried.

<< We will talk about it in my office. I'll wait for you here in an hour at the latest, no more. See you >>.

The call is abruptly cut off and Greg is gaping at the cell phone.

<< Old bitch! >> he exclaims, annoyed by the woman's ways and by the thought of all the money he is paying for that school.

<< I think it is better you do not make her wait >> says Molly, struggling to hold back a laugh at the curses he is still sending to the directrice.

<< I fear that we will have to postpone our lunch until tomorrow >> he says, nervously running his hand through his hair.

<< Put your things right, first. I can wait >> she says and Greg is surprised. Of course, this is not Molly's best strategy. Already placing herself in the background in front of everything else, especially the type of 'everything else' with which Greg has to do is not the best, but he appreciates the fact that she understands what the priorities may be in such a situation.

<< See you tomorrow >> he says, holding her in an embrace. << If they don't arrest me for killing the school manager of my son's school >> he whispers in her ear, making her laugh. Greg likes the sound of her laughter and the way it vibrates against his chest. Greg squeezes her even harder and before letting her go he kisses her cheek. << Good job, Molly >> he says going to the door.

It takes him a while to put aside the satisfaction for that exit and focus on the son. Greg tries to call him on his cell phone, but finds it off and Greg thinks George can stay there, since, if he was called by the directrice, he must have been punished at the very least. George has never given any kind of problems at school and starting to do it now can only be a sign of the tension experienced in the family in recent months. Margaret had not wanted to know to inform the teachers of the children of what was happening to them, reiterating that she did not want their facts to be advertised in the winds. The idea of finding her in the school and having to deal with her next to what may have happened does not appeal to him at all.

Greg arrives at school half an hour before the requested time. He asks for his son and after a round of phone calls that does not even occur at Scotland Yard, a school operator finally accompanies him to a small classroom on the second floor of the structure.

George sits with his back to the door. Although, from the way he got straight, he heard someone coming, not to mention that he wanted to turn around.

<< George, what happened?>> He asks, but doesn't answer.

<< Warm heads, the today's kids >> says the school operator, glancing at the boy.

<< Can you leave me alone with my son, please? >> Greg asks him in a tone that sounds more like an order. The man shrugs and exits closing the door.

Greg approaches the boy, still motionless and when he is beside him he puts his hand on George's shoulder inviting him to turn around. George raises his face showing off a black eye.

<< Hey, what did they do to you? >> he asks, taking George's face in his hands. << Why didn't they take you to the hospital? >>.

<< Because I'm the one reduced better, dad >> George whispers, taking care not to meet his gaze. Greg doesn't believe his ears. Yes, his son plays rugby, but he never thought he could beat a partner to the point of sending him to the hospital.

Greg takes a deep breath and decides to sit down to reason better. He place his elbows over his knees and cross his hands in front of his face.

<< Would you like to tell me what led you to this? >> Greg asks him and the boy shakes his head firmly. << Do you really want me to find out exclusively from the version that the directrice will give me? >> Greg insists and George finally turns to him. << I will listen to you without judging, I promise >> he says and the boy sighs and lowers his gaze.

<< It was they who started >> George whispers, so weakly as to force Greg to get closer. << They have been on us for months with their fucking jokes >> he says between his teeth. << I tried to hold, to let go and all those other bullshits that, please, spare me! Only today I didn't make it >> he says, looking Greg in the eye.

There is no trace of the child who grew up in that look. An adult look, angry and determined, that completely displaces Greg.

<< What did they do? >> he asks him and George sighs and once again lowers his eyes.

<< We had gymnastics at the third hour and like every time in the locker room they began to insult us >> he says in disgust. << Always the usual jokes, always the usual teasing from that microcephalic troglodytes. This time, however, they started pushing us, until they tore the shirts off us. One of them put his hands on Leslie and I went out of my mind, dad >> George says and his lower lip starts to tremble, revealing part of the child he still is. << I jumped at that asshole' neck and punched him. I know they gave it to me too, but I didn't even hear it. I just wanted ... >> he stops swallowing. << I just wanted they to stop once and for all >>.

George's hands tighten his own knees. His knuckles are injured, a sign that he has really pounded his fists against that boy.

<< If there was also Leslie and two others besides the one you attacked, why is it just you and me here? >> Greg asks him, keeping calm.

<< Because when the prof arrived, the bastard's cronies ran away >> he says, passing his hand over his bruised face.

<< What about Leslie? >> Greg asks him, seeing him shiver.

<< He has nothing to do with it. I took the blame for everything >>.

<< You defended him, George. You have no fault, on the contrary, if he could say what happened the situation would be less heavy for you >>.

<< It is not mentioned! >> exclaims the boy, turning to him. It is so tense that it trembles like a leaf.

<< What happens to you, George? You look terrified >> he asks, catching the mark, since the boy melts into a river of tears.

<< His father kills him if he finds out >> George says between sobs. << Les's father does not think like you about. Everyone of them should die according to him, because they are against nature and he is crazy enough not to stop in front of his son. Les is afraid to even breathe when he is at home. He fears that he may become aware of this from the slightest movement. Those assholes do not understand that what for them is a game for him, if the voice turns, it can become a nightmare. I don't want he to hurt him, dad >>.

George slings himself into Greg's arms, giving vent to the tears that who knows how long they were there. He is still trembling, his young man, and Greg squeezes him tight, feeling his heart broken by those fears that he feared could hurt him and that too soon came true.

<< I am proud of you, George >> Greg whispers in his ear, calming the tears. << You defended someone important to you today. Of course, sending another to the hospital is not the best strategy, but in extreme evils, extreme remedies >> Greg says and hears him chuckling.

<< Leslie said to love me ... I love him, but I do not know if it is the same thing >> George whispers and once again Greg must get closer to hear him. << He was afraid that by telling me I would have chased him away. I didn't do it, but I told him I don't know and I still don't know. I just want he not to risk his life for those idiots. I can trust you >> George says, holding him even tighter. << I know you would never hurt me, even if I had to understand that I am ... like Sherlock >>.

<< Why should I hurt you in discovering your brilliant and above average intelligence? >>. The boy moves away from him and looks at him, unsure whether he is serious or if he is making fun of him. << Knowing that you trust me and that you are not afraid to talk to me about what you feel is a beautiful gift for me >> Greg tells him, ruffling George's hair slowly. << I guess your mother is coming >>.

<< I have given the manager only your number. I told her that mom is not available at this hour >> he admits, looking away. << I know you don't want me to tell lies, but… I don't trust her. Yesterday, after Les left, she told me he was too close to me and that in her opinion it is not a good thing. Explain to me what the hell did you find in her, dad? >> he asks him, rolling his eyes.

<< I do not like that you talk about your mother in this way, George >> Greg scolds him, although he himself has recently asked himself the same question. << I think your mother is only worried, as I am, too. Things like what you experienced today happen every day, unfortunately. Regardless of sexual orientation, of course, but unfortunately people still have a small and closed mind and think that 'normal' things are what they impose on them >>.

<< Idiots >> George says, shaking his head. Bring his hand to the sore eye, making a grimace of pain.

<< I, however, now take you to the hospital and if the manager doesn't want to get a good report for omission of help she will see well not to hinder me >> Greg says standing up.

<< Dad, forget it! I got worse on the rugby pitch >> George snorts.

<< I know and I remember them well. I have to call your mother anyway >> he says, rolling his eyes.

<< Why? >> asks the boy, getting up in turn.

<< Because you can't go back to class, you would be alone at home and I have to go back to the office >>.

<< But you weren't on vacation? >> he asks him curious.

<< You said well, I was >> he snorts, taking the phone. << An agent working for my team was killed tonight and I was called back to investigate >>.

<< Did they kill Jordan? >> he asks him and Greg turns in amazement towards him.

<< What do you know about this story? >> Greg asks him and the boy bites his lip worried about having talked too much.

<< Here ... let's say that it is possible that I, as I proposed, wrote to Sherlock >>.

<< And? >> Greg pursues him, feeling the anger mount.

<< And that he told me something >>.

<< What? >> he insists, crossing his arms over his chest. The boy feels stormy air and shrugs.

<< He didn't answer you and then I tried to ask him and he told me that he was investigating this agent who could have been a mole >>.

<< Did he share confidential information with you? >> Greg snaps, bringing his hands to his hair. << This is the right time that I will kill him with my hands! >>.

<< Wait, dad, you said you wouldn't judge >>.

<< We are no longer talking about what happened here, Georgie, but about much more dangerous things >>.

<< I know, and that's why I told him what I discovered >>.

Greg blinks in amazement at what the boy just told him.

<< You discovered ... what? >> he asks.

<< About Jackson >> he answers fearfully. << When you told me your doubts about the case and then Lizzy told you of the rumors that were circulating about them ... here, I remembered that I had saved several files from the chats that had poured into Lizzy's account. I went to see them again, because I seemed to remember there was one that spoke about a man capable of making every request come true. I wanted to tell you about it, but you said that you had passed the case to Sherlock and then I contacted him >>.

Greg can't believe to his words. He doesn't know whether to scold him, congratulate him or hang up on the phone to load the consulting detective with misery. He go back to sit, running his hands over his tired face and stay for a long moment with both hands over his eyes.

<< I didn't want to make you angry >> George whispers. << Sherlock told me it's important information >>.

<< And he will also be right, Georgie, I am convinced >> he snaps, remaining firm in the position. << Except that it's damned dangerous and I'm already up to my neck and I don't want you to end up too >>.

Greg feels his son's hand rest on his head. The boy caresses him slowly and he raises his face to meet his bruised gaze.

<< You always do everything by yourself and I ... I just wanted to help you >> he says, stroking his face.

Greg smiles, moved. He is growing well, his son, in spite of everything, and he hopes that it will continue like this. Let nothing distract him from this passion for justice, not even his possible death.

The door opens and a big woman with a frowning expression enters the room.

<< Mr. Lestrade, follow me to my office >> she says in a nasal voice, leaving the room without adding anything else.

<< Let's get this thing off, come on, and then we'll see how to deal with your mother >>.

<< Can't I go to the office with you? >> George asks, putting on his face his best abandoned puppy look. Greg shakes his head, convinced that these collateral emotions will kill him before the killer hired by Moriarty.

<< Only if we come out alive of the meeting with the manageress >> he says and sees him already chuckling happy at the idea of following him to Scotland Yard.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

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Greg snorts and swears in a low voice. He has been trying for hours to contact both Sherlock and his ex-wife to no avail. He puts the cell phone back in his pocket and decides to give up. He wrote a message to Margaret, who obviously hasn't seen it yet, just to be able to say that he tried everything to warn her of the situation.

Although Greg used every possible argument in favor of his son, the directrice did not want to hear reasons, condemning George to a day's suspension. The boy's parents currently hospitalized in traumatology, initially protested, then, partly because of the badge Greg wears and partly because it is not the first time that their son is accused of bullying, they quieted down, acknowledging his part of responsibility. Certainly the boy will not be sentenced to suspension, given the directrice's obtuseness, but Greg promised his parents that he would keep an eye on him and they looked worried and hopefully that will be enough as a motivation to deal a little more with the conduct of their son.

George tried to contact Leslie without, however, also obtaining no results. Greg saw him very worried and he too must admit that he does not look favorably on the situation. The father of his son's friend is really capable of becoming quite violent when he is in a bad mood. Precisely because of this temperament, Leslie's mother decided to take courage and ask for a divorce, helped by yet another hospitalization because of the blows suffered. Despite this, the son was entrusted to both and forced to spend the weekend alternately with the parents and one day a week with the father.

"Evidently your mother has not had the opportunity to pay for an asshole lawyer like that of my ex-wife, Leslie" sighs Greg, thinking of his one and absurd day a month to spend with his children and how Margaret had even come to ask for the neutral place for the meeting, as if he were the worst of the criminals.

Greg pushes these thoughts out of his head and observes George intently asking questions to Molly, who answers it with patience. It was an idea of the son to get medicated by the pathologist rather than going to the emergency room.

<< I don't want to meet Dora, dad. Who knows what ideas she could put in her head and what voices to put around seeing me arrive there with you, a black eye and a split lip >>.

Greg hadn't thought of Dora. Who knows why he easily forgets her wife's friend, her first bridesmaid at their wedding and godmother for Elisabeth. He must thank Margaret for keeping her ideas about a possible relationship between him and Sherlock, won by embarrassment and shame. It is not clear, however, what his ex-wife said to her friend, since her, first kind and easy-going with him, has completely transformed, giving him dirty looks and avoid her greeting to him.

Although aware of how much Margaret could be in anger with him for bringing his son to a morgue, Greg decided to accept the boy's proposal and must say that it is pleasant to see him talk to Molly.

The girl turns to him, that looking at them from the porthole in the door of the doctor's office. She smiles at him and Greg decides to return a smile to her.

<< News? >> George asks, whose face is even more swollen than when Greg joined him at school.

<< Nope >> he snorts, going next to the son. << Sherlock can not answer or ignores my calls and messages and your mother's cell phone is unreachable >>.

<< She's doing gymnastics >> says the boy, quoting the last word with his fingers. << It is always unreachable when training >> he specifies, by repeating the gesture.

Greg's stomach closes. Although months have passed since he discovered his ex wife's affair with the gym instructor, it still hurts like the first day. Greg cannot accept the idea that his ex-wife is having sex with another man. He know her sexual fantasies, her favorite positions, the points that drive her mad, the tone that her voice takes on how excited she is. Greg cannot accept that all this is now for another man. In particular, the fact that she is having a good time with this man, while he and his son have faced a meeting with the directrice, a clash with the bully's parents and are now in this medical office to complete the bruise cures that George reported.

"But it's me, then, the bad parent" Greg thinks, sighing. he intercepts Molly's gaze, embarrassed and at the same time full of compassion.

<< Sorry dad >> peeps George and Greg realizes once again how wrong he is in thinking he can mask his emotions. Greg ruffles his son's hair and puts a kiss just above Molly's dressing.

<< It is better to go or we will make your sister wait and I don't want to hear her scream >> he says.

<< Is there really no possibility, then, of seeing one of the corpses that she keeps in the fridge? >> George asks, trying to put on a defenseless puppy's look, but without succeeding because of the black eye.

<< Absolutely >> Greg just replies, pointing to the door. George sighs and tries to move Molly, who, however, shakes her head, desolate.

<< Then it will be for the next time >> he insists, making the pathologist laugh and the father impatient. George goes to the door and leaves, leaving them alone too evidently.

<< Your son is very nice >> says the girl, approaching him.

<< Thanks for taking care of him >> he says, placing his hand on her arm. << And for having patiently answered all his huge questions >> he adds, rolling his eyes.

<< It is always a pleasure to talk with curious people and among the very young like him there are not many more, unfortunately. By the way >> she adds, restarting the lock of hair behind her ear, a sign that she is about to tell him something that embarrasses her. << I know that Sherlock was wrong and I too would be angry, if I were in your place. But he is not the type of person to do or say something without it making sense >>.

<< What do you think it can be the sense? >> Greg asks her, trying to follow her reasoning.

<< Well ... I think that somehow he may have seen himself again in your son >> she says, leaving him speechless. << He was more or less George's age when he found himself investigating the death of Carl Powell and nobody would have listened to him then. Who would listen to a boy, even more so if with Sherlock's temper? I think he saw the potentiality of your child, his desire to give you a hand and his great sense of justice and Sherlock wanted give trust to him >>.

Trust. Greg thinks about what he said to Mycroft during their last meeting. He gave trust Sherlock, who needed to be encouraged and supported in his project. Greg realizes he doesn't know what his son's plans are. At ten George saids he wanted to become a professional rugby player, but Greg doesn't know if he is still of that opinion. He has been lost a year of chatter and stories with his sons. Maybe George even told him and Greg didn't hear it. Greg's father didn't hear him when he spoke to him, too busy with other thoughts.

The only thing that is clear to Greg mind's eyes is the gaze of his children. That look of expectation that has been haunting him for months. So many uncomfortable things have come out, too many uncomfortable things in the past year, but those eyes that seem to beg 'please, dad, do something' are still there. And Greg does not know what to answer them. Greg does not know what to do, despite having said that he is ready to be there, that he still loves them and that he feels mortally guilty for not having done more. Blocked by resentment, anger, remorse. So taken by himself to put aside the most important thing for him.

<< You're right, Molly >> Greg whispers, sending down the sadness.

Sherlock was undoubtedly wrong when tolds to George about the case, but on the other hand, Greg also violated a fundamental rule when he accepted that agreement. An agreement that on balance saved the consultant's life. It is possible that the exchange of messages between his son and Sherlock may have somehow saved George. Several times Greg heard him compare himself to Sherlock, while talking to him about his friend's suffering. It is possible that the consultant sees himself again in his son, as Molly speculates, and perhaps George also sees himself in Sherlock. Not in his genius and not even in his work, but in his experience. Greg also wonders if by chance he asked him other more personal questions, besides those related to the investigation, and he knows that, if so, Sherlock would have answered him. With his usual rawness and no filter, but he would satisfy George's curiosity. The boys, after all, need models and, since Greg is not gay, it is possible that his son in this moment of confusion needs a model that he feels more like him. A homosexual man, intelligent, strong and important.

<< When he returns from Spain, I will tell Sherlock that if I have not welcomed him with punches it is only thanks to you >> he says, caressing Molly's face. The girl laughs amused. She looks away and smiles again.

<< I think your son is spying on us >> she whispers, approaching him. Greg looks at the door just in time to see George's cheeky tuft disappear from the porthole.

<< He said that, since he cannot hope to have the consultant detective as his stepfather, he will cheer on the pathologist >> Greg says and Molly's cheeks light up while she laughs embarrassed. << I do not know if the amount of things that are raining on me will allow me, but I will do everything possible to be here for lunch tomorrow >> he says approaching in turn.

<< Thanks >> she says awkwardly, accepting the kiss that he places on her amazed lips.

Greg must admit that he reluctantly leaves that small doctor's office, despite the fact that a little voice is asking him if he hasn't burned the stages a little too quickly.

<< Woe to you if you tell it around >> Greg says to his son, who looks at him satisfied with a smile from ear to ear.

<< I do not know what you are talking about, inspector >> ironizes him and Greg must say that he likes this new complicity that is being born between them.

The cell phone rings just as the elevator doors open.

<< Oh, look. Apparently your mother ended the gymnastics session >> he says winking at him while he accepts the call and the boy suffocates a laugh in his hand .

<< What happened? >> Margaret urges him worried, without even giving him time to say 'Hallo.

<< I wrote you everything in the message. I'm going to get Liz and we'll talk about it at home. Do you think you can wait? >>

he asks her.

<< Yes, sure >> she says quickly. << Sorry if I didn't answer you. I ... >>.

<< We talk about it at home, Mag >> he interrupts her and she, strangely, doesn't reply. Margaret whispers 'See you' and ends the conversation.

<< Guilt take me away >> ironizes George, shaking his head.

<< You're getting good at deductions >> note Greg and the boy blushes and lowers his head. << Are you still of the idea of wanting to be a rugby player when you grow up? >> he asks him, placing his arm on the boy shoulders. Greg realizes how tall George is, almost like him now.

<< No >> shakes his head. << Not even the detective, though. You are too limited by rules and bureaucracy >> he turn up his nose, bringing his hand to the chin. << I see myself better as an consultant detective. Sherlock would take me as a student? >> George asks, pretending indifference, but it is clear how important that answer is for him.

<< Well, I think that he would like to have someone to leave the inheritance of his method >> Greg meditates and it seems that his support for this idea fills his son with joy. << Were you able to get in touch with Leslie? >> Greg asks him as they get into the car ready to go to Elisabeth's school.

<< No and I'm worried about it >> sighs the boy, looking at his cell phone. << He was terrified of what happened and we didn't get to talk about it. That asshole of the gymnastics teacher tugged me in the direction while the teacher of the other class called the ambulance >> he says between his teeth.

<< I'll try to talk to his mother later. She is aware of ... >> Greg deliberately leaves the sentence on hold and the son immediately catches what he is referring to.

<< No, but according to him she understood it or at least suspects it. Les told me he doesn't want to worry her, because she would immediately think about how his father might react >>.

<< So he had no way to confide in anyone but with you >> he asks, thinking about how heavy it can be at this age to carry an important secret that feeds an even greater fear. George nods and checks the phone once more.

<< However, Dad I do not understand this thing >> George sighs, shaking his head.

<< What? >>.

<< Why it must be a secret and why we should be led to feel fear for what we are >>.

Greg would like to have an answer to this question. He himself, as much as he has always thought that everyone is free to do and be what they want, as long as he does not harm others or transgresses the law, he is realizing that he is very worried about it, now that he touches his son. This concern is far from homophobia, but Greg realizes that the only advice he would feel to give both Leslie and his son is to do what they want, but in secret, just to avoid other fights and acts of bullying.

"It's not a solution at all, though," he thinks.

Greg remember that the thing he liked best with his first girlfriend was to hold her hand. While they walked, when they sitted, on every occasion. A simple but important gesture, as it allows you to show the world when you care about a person, how happy you are and, yes, even that you have this person. It is an act of personal and social recognition and to think that his son could not enjoy this small victory, because at constant risk of judgment and violent actions, he scares him and at the same time points out to him how unjust all this unmotivated hatred is.

<< I don't know, George >> he admits, parking in front of his daughter's school. << I hope things will change. That people change >>.

<< According to Sherlock it is impossible for this to happen >> George says, taking him by surprise. << That a person must be oneself and not care about the judgment of others and that it is not necessary to say it, not because it is better that it remains secret, but because hetero people are not required to do it, then why should homo be? >>.

<< Excellent observation >> notes Greg. << So you didn't just update Sherlock on the investigations >> observes Greg, seeing him blush.

<< I asked him for advice for Leslie >> he whispers shrugging. << He didn't reply immediately and I thought I had irritated him. Last night, however, he sent me a very long message >> George says happy and Greg sees him calling the chat back from his mobile. He would like to ask him to read it, but he does not want to be intrusive.

Elisabeth opens the door wide and George snorts, but agrees to get out of the car to get back in the back seat.

<< Hey, what did you do to your face? >> she asks his sister, intercepting him. George struggles, annoyed by her attentions and the girl sits in her place, looking her father, worried. She listen carefully to what happened at school, without interrupting him or George once and raise her eyes to heaven when she hear about her mother's absence.

<< I think you did well to send that asshole to the hospital, Georgie >> she says, looking proud her brother.

<< However, I think that fight is never the best solution >> Greg replies in a desperate attempt to give a clear educational message, even if, down below, he also thinks that the son has done well. He would have done it in his place too.

<< What are you going to say to mom? >> Elisabeth asks, finally sitting on the seat.

<< The same thing your brother just told you >> Greg replies, knowing well, however, what his daughter alludes to.

<< Come on, Inspector, don't pretend to be a fool >> she says, in fact, giving him a defiant look. << You know what I'm referring to >>.

<< I do not want to start any war, Lizzy >> Greg makes it clear, seeing her roll her eyes.

<< How can you be so naive? >> she blurts out. << Do you have the opportunity to exploit the situation in your favor and throw it away like this? >>.

<< Your brother has a black eye, one day of school's suspension and he sent a boy to the hospital, it seems to me that there is nothing to be exploited in all this >>.

<< In this no, but in the fact that she was unavailable because taken by 'we know what commitments', while her son is having a bad time yes, dad. She has proven to be the bad parent and you can use this to force her to review the agreements >>.

<< I didn't teach you these things, Elisabeth! >> he calls her sternly. << I don't like hearing you talk about taking advantage of situations and use blackmail >>.

<< I thought you wanted to be with us more >> the girl snorts.

<< Now stop it, Liz >> George intrudes. << Do you not realize that you are like mom when you act like this? >>.

The girl turns to her brother, ready to reply but remains silent. She sighs and sits down again.

<< Sorry, dad >> she whispers. << I am angry with her. I try to let it go, but I can't. Even her voice just drive me crazy, now >> she admits, looking out the window.

<< Let me speak to her, please >> Greg asks both of them and this time nobody replies. << The situation is already tense and I really don't want the war to break out. I can't cope with it these days, guys. I'm damned tired and too many things are falling on me. I know I'm asking you a lot and I shouldn't, but I need time >>.

The boys remain silent and the small passenger compartment becomes uncomfortable and far too hot.

<< Well, come on, there is a positive note in all this story >> says George, catching their attention. << I got to know Molly >>.

<< No! >> exclaims Elisabeth, turning to him. << Did you take him to the morgue? >> she asks the father, amazed.

<< I didn't want to risk pecking Dora, who knows what she would invent, and I proposed to be treated by the pathologist >> says George.

<< That is, you have been medicated by a woman who works as a corpse cutter? >>.

<< She don't tear up cadavers, Liz, perform autopsies >> specifies Greg, who just can't stand the image that evokes these words.

<< Be that as it may, but he was medicated by a doctor of the dead >> she says disgusted. << What are you planning to do with Les? >> Elisabeth asks him, changing the subject. Greg realizes how visibly annoyed she is that he may have a new partner and fears that this may be a serious problem. Yet another serious problem, which makes him want to not get into any other type of relationship.

<< I will try to speak with his mother and if it will be the case also with the father. I can not indict him, unfortunately, since he did nothing >> sighs Greg, who hopes that Les's father continues to do nothing.

<< Until now >> the daughter replies macabre. << It will end badly, in my opinion. Of course up there they are really good at sending gay kids into homophobic families. Did you tell Les that you have your head elsewhere? >> asks his brother, turning to him. << Just not to delude him, since he has enough bad luck >>.

George glances at the rearview mirror, meeting Greg's gaze and immediately moves towards the car door. He answers his sister with grimaces and puffs and she returns to her place shaking her head.

<< I don't understand the men >> she mumbles.

The journey ends in silence and Greg tries not to ask himself questions about where the son has his head, since he thinks he already has the answer. Greg park in front of the house and all three walk down the driveway. Margaret opens the door even before they knock. She has worried eyes that get even bigger at the sight of George's pitched eye.

<< Oh my! >> she exclaims, raising her hand to bring him just near the dressing. She turns her gaze to Greg, who finds in her eyes that need for support and help that he hasn't seen for some time.

<< Guys, go do your homework, I need to talk to your mother >> Greg says and their, obedient, go away without retort.

<< Why did you send them away? >> Margaret asks him, confused.

<< Because I think it is better to talk about it with us first. Not here, though >> he says, turning his gaze to the doors of the guys' bedrooms. She understands and takes him by the hand. Greg didn't expect it. Her hand is cold and outstretched, as she leads him to what was once their bedroom.

Although she hasn't changed any decor items, it looks different for Greg. His disorder is missing, the one she always reproached and his smell, aftershave, tobacco and sweat. There is no longer that fragrance that was born from the meeting of their smell and that gave Greg that sense of balance, territory and family.

Margaret closes the door and for a moment Greg has the feeling of being trapped. She seems so submissive, worried. There are no signs of a possible impending explosion, yet those eyes take his breath away.

<< Did our Georgie really send a school fellow to the hospital? >> she asks him in a whisper. Greg nods, pulling the collar of his shirt off his throat.

<< George broke him the nose, the right cheekbone, he punch the boy eyes and dotted the face with bruises >> he says, seeing her become increasingly pale.

<< What triggered all that anger? >>.

<< That boy, and two others, who ran away when the prof arrived, annoying him and Leslie since a few months >> Greg says and sees her tending. << This time they went down heavier than usual, especially with Les, and when this boy put his hands on Lesly, for George was enough >>.

<< To the point of reducing him, that way? >> she asks incredulously.

<< Mag ... I think he poured all the frustration, anger, fear of recent times on him. On balance, George never showed signs of being unwell about what happened. Lizzy kept the scene, let's say it, and he, instead, kept everything inside. Today he exploded >>.

<< Don't you worry that he did so much damage to that boy with this explosion? >> she asks him, moving a few steps towards him.

<< George is not going crazy, if this is what worries you >> he says and from how he looks away he understands that this is her fear. << George knows he made a mistake and, of course, we will have to handle the situation, to be next to him without being too much on him. A mess, basically >> he says, sitting on the bed. Margaret slowly approaches him and sits next to him, leaving a good meter away.

<< You ... what do you think of Leslie? >> she asks him just looking at him.

<< I think that boy is experiencing hell perhaps worse than what we left behind us >> he says, hoping that really that hell is behind them.

<< I ... I saw as he looks at George. He hangs from his lips. He looks for him. With the hands. I don't know how to deal with the conversation with him. The situation here is quite cold >> she sighs shrugging. << Did George say ... anything to you? >> she asks and Greg doesn't know what she might be worried about. Margaret's family is one of the old-fashioned ones, quite closed and judgmental. She has never been in line with their ideas, but lately so many things have changed that Greg no longer knows who is the woman he is talking with.

<< About what, Mag? >> he asks, intent not to be manipulated. She bites her lower lip and curves even more on herself.

<< I thought a lot about what you said to me last time >> she says, getting a little closer to him. << I realized that I should have told you about my doubts and it is a bit what is happening to me now with George. I can't ask him what he's feeling. Whether that between him and Leslie is just friendship or if ... if there is something more. Even just a few innocent experiments. Me and my best friend at their age we kissed to train to do it with the boys >> she chuckles, confiding him something that in all those years Greg had never said. << If it was only Les and he had defended him because he is his friend ... I think it's a nice gesture. Of course, that day of suspension should also be assigned to the bully, but these are bureaucratic details >> she says passing her hand over her face. << What do we do, Greg? >> she asks, putting her hand close to his.

Greg looks at that beautiful hand with blue lacquered nails and would like to take it, but decides not to. Margaret has avoided and attacked him for all this time and now that they are experiencing a moment of confusion she is looking for him, submissively. It may be part of the civil coexistence between two ex-spouses for the sake of their children, an action of this type, but Margaret's is a change of mood all too sudden, even to be carried by fear, and Greg not to trust her at all.

<< I do not think there is something to do other than what we would do if there was a girl in place of Leslie >> he says, confidently. << I realize that it may be something we never thought about, but he is still our son >>.

<< So for you there wouldn't be ... problems? >>.

<< No, Maggie. Concerns, those yes. The world is so full of idiots of the caliber of Leslie's father >> he sighs. << Even if we are no longer together, I think we should face together on this thing >> he says and again she looks away from his.

<< I ... I don't know, Greg >> she whispers. << It's not just for homophobes and bullies. I ... wonder if I didn't do something wrong. If it wasn't for those medications I took when I still didn't know I was pregnant, do you remember? Or for the doll I had in the room and with which he always wanted to play >>.

<< I do not think it is for these things, Mag. I do not think it is for something, but that it simply ... is >> Greg says, realizing how much she struggles to keep up with him. << You and I are etherosexual and we are not for medicines taken by mistake or for particular toys. We just are. George is perhaps homo and I don't see why we should be right and he should be wrong >>.

<< I ... I don't know, Greg >> she repeats confused. << I had not even begun to think about the possibility that he was interested in girls. He is just a kids >>.

<< We must give him time to figure out which side he is on then. And then, when the ideas have been clarified ... we will try to clarify them too >>.

Margaret nods unconvinced and restarts a lock of brown hair that Greg has loved so much. That natural shade that turns red in winter and blond in summer.

<< Gregory, I ... I realize I was terrible with you >> she whispers, looking at him with infinitely sad eyes. << I accused you of being a bad parent and instead ... instead you were there today. I was ... elsewhere >> she says, looking away, embarrassed. << That man, the consultant detective's brother ... he was right in saying that the bad parent is not you. I thought I could do it, but I can't >> she says, sending the sadness down, while tears run down her face. << Last time you said that you miss us. You asked me not to take away the boys, to review the agreements ... I realized that I am the one who lost all of you. Elisabeth does not consider me. George barely looks at me ... I also miss what we were. I ... I thought I was acting for the best and instead ... I didn't understand anything and I ruined everything >> the crying breaks and takes her breath away.

Greg is amazed that he's not feeling anything. To tell the truth, he feels her pain fake and does not even feel guilty for what he is thinking. Greg only feels the need to get out of that room, but he cannot get out of bed so strange this situation appears to him.

<< If you were willing to review the agreements I could be more present for the boys and maybe things would improve here too >> he says, doing what his daughter advised him: take advantage of the situation. Margaret nods.

<< And if ... if, instead, we ... try to be together again? >> she asks him looking at him hesitantly.

Greg's stomach tangles and he misses the air completely. He realizes that what until a few days ago would have been the most beautiful proposal for him to receive, now, however, sends him in panic. He swallows several times, unable to say anything to those eyes that point at him expecting an answer. Greg has no idea how she would take a 'no' and realizes that he is afraid to start another war, this time to get back together. He does not want to say 'yes', however, for the feeling of falsehood that he feels in the gestures and words of his ex-wife. For this distrust that perhaps is only a derivative of what he has experienced in these days, of the words of Jadescu and Mycroft.

Greg receives a message on his cell phone that startles them both, they are so tense. It doesn't seem appropriate to read it now, just as she awaits such an important answer. Greg allows himself, however, to thaw and give voice to new thoughts that surprise himself.

<< Margaret ... I think our lifes are now destined to divide >> he says, taking courage. << I still love you, it is true, however, I realize that we can be two separate parents, that raise the children they had together, but we could never be a couple again. Not as we were, surely >> he says, trying to support her astonished gaze. << And then you ... you're with ... well, I don't know his name, however you have another man >>.

<< I am willing to leave him to give us another chance. You have to see if you are too >> she replies, on whose face there is no longer any expression.

<< I do not want to ignite other discussions, Margaret >> Greg says, standing up. << Up to now I have been the one who proposed a rapprochement finding himself always loaded with miseries. Now I realize that there is no more chance for us, Mag. There are our children, but there is no longer a 'we' >>.

<< You said you love me yet you're dating another woman >> she replies, who seems not to have heard even a word of what he said.

<< I'm trying to go on, Margaret >> Greg retorts in tone. << What do you expect? Do you want that am I going to macerate for this story until the end of my days? You have another man, another relationship, another life. I did not want another thing. I was fine with what we had, but since things have gone so now I am trying to move forward. I'm willing to be here for the boys and that's why I asked you to review the agreements. It's the only thing I'm willing to think about, Mag >> Greg says, peremptory. In turn, his ex-wife gets out of bed and walks in front of him.

<< I have definitely lost you, then? >> she asks seriously, just looking at him. Greg honestly doesn't know what to answer to this absurd question and, on the contrary, he has to look around to make sure he hasn't ended up in a candid camera. << I just have to wish you well >> she says and Greg really struggles to understand what is going on.

<< We will review the agreements. I want you to be there for the boys. You know how to take them, it seems >> she whispers and this is the only thing Greg wanted to hear her say, the only one that on balance has the best interests.

<< Thank you, Margaret >> he says, trying to keep for himself only what is useful and put an X above all the rest without any logic. She smiles and approaches him entering his private space.

<< No, it is I who thank you for the patience you had, Greg >> she says, slowly squeezing him in an embrace. << I want to kiss you one last time, can I? >> she whispers, so close to him that he can feel the warm breath on his face.

Margaret doesn't give Greg time to think, let alone find a way to answer her. She kiss his lips slowly, with the sweetness of the past, in the way she knows to drive him crazy. Despite a thousand thoughts on his mind, doubts, fear, Greg gets involved in that kiss. He embraces her in turn and her hands, which slowly slide down his back, cause him to shiver with a pleasure that has been missing for too long. Greg touches her body, the curves that, despite the passing of the years and the pregnancies, are unchanged. The excitement takes over and passion transforms their kisses, their hands. They had returned like little boys, exchanging effusions in the secret of the bedroom, with parents in the living room and the risk of being discovered.

"You realize that this doesn't make sense, does it?" John asks, improperly, popping up in Greg's thoughts. He ignore him. There is no point in confirming the obvious, as Sherlock always says.

Margaret comes closer to him, bringing them both to the bed, and then, as she did those first times int the past, when she dropped the mask of the shy girl to take on the role of seduction, she falls on the bed pulling him along. A laugh escapes her lips and Greg laugh with her. Greg felt the one year of abstinence, the desire for kisses and caresses also and when Margaret's hands go to the belt, insistent and frenetic, Greg completely loses contact with reality.

"Hey, hey, wait, what the fuck are you doing ?!" John shouts in his head, but Greg only feels Margaret's hands that caress him slowly, her lips that bites with force and that laughter, the laughter of his Mag, the one that has always made him understand that they can give it in as long as there is.

"Stop, damn it! This woman just got fucked by another man while your son was fighting with a guy to defend a friend! " John exclaims in the tone of voice that he usually uses with Sherlock when exaggerates.

Greg stops suddenly, as if he had received a bucket of cold water to cool the hot spirits. Meet Margaret's gaze, confused by this abrupt interruption. It never happened that he stopped. When they were engaged in these things, even the calls from the central did not distract him.

<< What are we doing? >> Greg asks her, moving away from her.

<< Well… it seems obvious to me, doesn't it? >> she says, stroking his face. Greg moves away from her hand and sits down at the foot of the bed.

<< We are no longer together, Margaret. We are no longer husband and wife, so we cannot do these things. With our children outside the door, in addition! >> he says putting himself in order.

<< I thought you liked it >> she says and her innocent expression drive him crazy.

<< Of course I like you, Maggie >> he replies, turning to her. << You have never stopped liking me and God only knows when this will happen, but you can't play like that with me, Jesus >> he says loudly, seeing her shiver. << Listen >> he says, taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm down. << Let's end it here. No more quarrels, no more struggles. Let's fix these agreements and just meet up for the kids. I will not fail to pay for them, nor to reason together on situations like the one we found ourselves facing today, but you go to your own way and I go for mine >>.

Margaret seems amazed by such determination. In a way, Greg too is surprised. It is the first time that he has set points with her since this story began.

Greg leaves the room without adding anything else. He feels his stomach upside down and nausea takes over.

<< Guys, I'm going >>.

The children leave the rooms too quickly not to have been there eavesdropping, hoping to catch something of what they were saying. They look at him in bewilderment and he takes a look to himself to make sure he has put everything in place.

<< Are you all right, dad? You look upset >> Elisabeth asks him, looking at the door of the room from which the mother has just left.

<< Your mother and I have decided to review the agreements regarding your foster care >> he says and this news diverts their attention from the rest. Greg sees them truly happy for that victory and realizes how they are smiling even at the mother. << And as regards what happened today at school, George >> Greg adds, drawing the boy's attention. << The reason that pushed you to do it is admirable, but it is not by fighting that situations are resolved. We invite you to talk about it with us long before we get to this. I will get in touch with Leslie's mother and see what I can do for him. I invite you to contact me for any news, removing the idea of doing it yourself, ok? >>.

The boy nods. There would be many other things to talk about, more important than a suspension and even a fistfight, but Greg feels that this is not the time. He has too many things to put himself in order to put others in the picture.

<< Now I have to go. I have a lot of things to fix >> he says, greeting them quickly and then take the door and go out.

He takes a deep breath, as if he had been underwater all this time. He walks down the driveway and hasn't even come halfway when he hears Elisabeth calling him. He turns just in time to be overwhelmed by her, who holds him tightly in his arms.

<< I don't know what happened, what you said to yourself, but you're different. You are back to what it used to be >> she whispers in his ear. << And I'm very happy with this >>.

His daughter's eyes shine with emotion and, yes, it has been a long time since he saw this beautiful smile on her face.

<< Me too, Lizzy. As far as possible, try to sort things out with your mother too. Peace is always the best of solutions >>.

The girl nods, gives him another kiss and goes home. Greg looks at her feeling the need to explode, but it is not really the moment or the place.

He gets back in the car and receives a message that reminds him of the previous one. He picks up the phone and finds out they are both from Anthea, which alarms him, reminding him of his other big problem.

See you at 7 Eldon road

Do not make me wait!

Greg starts up and enters the traffic. He think about what could have happened and why of that message. Mycroft doesn't usually do this. When he wants to talk to him, he has him picked up, as he has done these days, but now he asks him to go to Eldon road.

<< Oh Jesus! >> Greg exclaims, perhaps braking a little too abruptly at the red light. He know that address. Yes, he knows it too well.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Greg parks the car badly, slams down the car door and runs to number 7 on Eldon road. The door opens even before he push on the bell like a desperate. Greg climbs the stairs two steps at a time to arrives the third floor.

<< It took you some time, Inspector >> Anthea welcomes him. Greg struggles to recognize her with those informal clothes on. A wide, gray, anonymous suit. Under the hat with a visor the hair is held tight by an elastic in a tail that falls on the shoulder and has no trace of makeup on the face.

Greg ignores her, pulls her away from the door and slingshot into the apartment. He had no idea what he would find there. Greg kept hoping that he would not find himself in front of the corpse of who he does not know if he is the boyfriend of his son. Greg would not have had the strength at all to give George this bad news .

Leslie, on the other hand, is alive. He sits on the sofa, his elbows resting over his knees and his hands supporting his head. He barely looks up at him, amazed to see him there.

<< Inspector, what are you doing here? >> he asks him, standing nervously.

<< I asked him to come >> Anthea replies in his place, approaching them.

<< Oh >> the boy whispers, looking at the woman suspiciously. << I didn't know you knew her >>.

<< Neither I did know that you knew her too >> retorts Greg, glancing at Mycroft's secretary, who has on her lips that smile of little empathetic circumstance.

<< And in fact I don't know her. She offered to accompany me home and wait with me for my mother's return >> Leslie explains, confused by what is happening.

<< Why did she do it? >> Greg asks him, trying to put the detective aside and act like a worried father.

The boy sits back on the sofa and folds his head up to bring his chin to his chest. Greg sits down on the low table in front of him and does not know what to say, also because he does not know what Anthea brought to this house and this boy. He turns his gaze to the woman, standing one meter from him, her arms crossed over her chest. She doesn't say anything, just keeping her gaze fixed on the boy.

<< Anthea asked me to run here and I did it. I was afraid that your father had you ... >>.

<< George told you? >> the boy interrupts him, looking at him frightened. Greg nods and Leslie looks away and turns red. He shrugs even more, swinging slowly on himself.

<< I ... I need to understand what's going on >> says Greg. << I want to help you, Les >> insists, and the boy shakes his head.

<< I do not deserve your help, inspector >> he whispers, clasping his arms to his chest. << You should have let me do it. It was the only way to end this story! >> he says, glancing at Anthea.

<< What story? >> Greg asks him confused. The boy shakes his head again and tightens his arms even further. There are dark spots on the left sleeve of the shirt, pulled up to cover the hand. Greg grabs it and the boy, taken by surprise, tries to escape his grasp.

<< What have you done? >> asks him, letting him go, but Leslie insists on not answering and hides his hand from his sight.

<< Self-harm >> says Anthea, coming out of her silence. << His arms are full of cuts. For this reason, despite the hot weather, he wears long-sleeved shirts >>.

Greg is amazed, impressed by the woman's aseptic explanation. The kid doesn't seem to like that violation of his privacy.

<< Why do you hurt yourself? >> Greg asks him and Leslie shakes his head reluctant to talk about it.

<< To quell anxiety >> explains Anthea. << Physical pain distracts from emotional pain. It is a relief valve. He is also done to feel something, to prove that he is alive, to see his own blood, the signs of scars >>.

The boy is visibly uncomfortable and trembles even more. He hides his right arm leaning more and more towards his knees.

<< Thank you for the clear and straightforward explanation, Anthea, but I think that's enough >> Greg calls her back, annoyed by her lack of empathy. << Does George know that you usually hurt yourself? >> he asks, thinking that maybe putting his son in the middle could be a way to induce Leslie to speak.

<< Yes >> he replies. << He doesn't like it and doesn't understand why I do it. I don't understand it either, I just feel I have to do it. It helps me to feel better >> he says, finally meeting his gaze.

Greg realizes that it is difficult to support him. His work led him to collide with the evil of the world and its ugliness and badness, but he always believed he could leave these things in his office in Scotland Yard. The usual illusion that 'this can never happen to me'. And instead, in recent days Greg is realizing that these things can happen, and how, to him too. His daughter victim of cyberbullying, his son with big doubts about his sexuality and this boy, whom he has always known, with the clear marks on the body of the pain he feels.

"I'm not prepared for all this," Greg thinks, running his hand over his tired face.

<< How's George doing? >> Leslie asks him, embarrassed.

<< He has a black eye, a split lip and a day of suspencion. The boy who bothered you is made a lot worse >> he says and, although he is shaken by what Greg said, Leslie lips curve into a moving smile, which, however, immediately disappears.

<< I'm sorry for what happened. I did want to take all the blame, but George insisted on doing it. He said he could trust you >> he says skeptically looking at him.

<< Of course, he can and you too >> reiterates Greg, assuming the same posture of the boy.

<< So you don't hate me for the day of suspension that your son took because of me? Or for the fact that I ... >> he leaves the sentence in the middle, sending down what he can't say.

<< That you are in love with him? >> Greg says in his place. << No, I don't hate you for this >> he reassures him smiling. The boy shakes his head and tears take over.

<< And instead you should! >> Leslie exclaims between sobs. << Because I was so stupid to let them threaten me and for this I wanted to jump off the bridge, because I can't take it anymore, Inspector! >> he exclaims. Leslie puts his forehead on his knees and lets out his desperate cry.

Greg looks at him dumbfounded. He is so confused that he no longer knows how to breathe. He turns his surprised gaze on Anthea, who takes a chair and brings it close to him.

<< We have received a report from our controllers >> she finally says, taking a seat. << We had decided to keep an eye on him, him like all those who gravitate around you and your family. It is part of the protective maneuvers >> she explains, bringing in turn the elbows to the knees. << My chief sent me to the scene. He thought it was important to manage the situation, given the boy's delicacy and young age >>.

Greg thinks Mycroft was very wrong if he decided to entrust the situation to her as a woman and therefore endowed with some maternal instinct.

<< They had sighted him near the old bridge of the former railway to the Docs in a suspicious attitude >> she continues, capturing the attention of the boy, who looks at her upset.

<< You told me you were there for jogging >> says Leslie. << I thought it was absurd to choose to run right there, but I can't believe that you were sent by someone. That I'm under control >> says frightened.

<< If I had told you who I am you wouldn't have listened to me and now we wouldn't be here, all together, Leslie >> she says and her voice becomes softer. Apparently if she wants this woman can be sweet.

<< Are you of the social services? Are you still on me for the story of the separation of my parents? >> he asks annoyed.

<< No, Les. She is not here for you >> answers Greg, taking him by surprise. << You are George's friend, he is my son and I ... I am going through a bit of truble at work >>.

<< Are you under escort? >> he asks him amazed and curious.

<< Let's say yes and I would like George not to know. Do you think you can keep it for yourself until I find a way to talk to him and his sister about it? >>.

The boy nods and seems relieved that the woman is not there for him.

<< Why did you want to jump off that bridge, Leslie? George would have suffered from it >> Greg reports him on the subject, using a somewhat cruel but necessary gimmick, if he wants to understand what's going on.

<< He would suffer even more if he knew the truth and I don't have the courage to tell him >> he replies, trying to control the tears.

<< Do you want to talk about it with me? >> Greg asks him and the boy hesitates.

<< I can tell him, if you prefer >> Anthea intrudes, taking both of them by surprise. Leslie breathes breathlessly, completely amazed at the proposal that this unknown woman has made for him.

<< Are you under escort for the history of the portal? >> Leslie asks him frightened.

<< The portal? Are you referring to Fenix? >> Greg asks him and a shiver runs through his back when Leslie nod. Anthea glares at him. If what he said to the boy is not just a trick to make him talk and she and her chief are really aware of something that for the umpteenth time they kept him hidden and the good time that Greg explodes, not caring about the consequences.

<< Lizzy had told George about it. George had told me he had gone to find out what it was. He explained to me that it was a self help site and I said to myself 'Why not? If it can help Lizzy maybe it can be useful for me too. " So I signed up >> sighs, swinging slowly on himself. << I didn't tell George because, according to him, the best way to solve a problem and talk about it and, since it is impossible to do it with my father, he kept telling me to go to the school psychologist. I, however, could not go to that and tell him about hell that even now that they are separated I still live with my parents. I couldn't think of finding myself with social services at home again to dig into my life and make my father even more nervous. It was just a website. It couldn't do me anything wrong >> he says in a voice broken by tears. << Instead he hurt me a lot and he is still doing it >>.

<< Still? How is it possible? It has been dismantled and the culprits arrested >> says Greg, but the boy shakes his head hard.

<< No, inspector. You haven't taken them all >> he whispers, looking scared. << I trusted Michael, the tutor they had entrusted to me. I told him about the problems with my father and how I feel about George. He was nice, gave me many tips and reassured me a lot. He spurred me to declare myself and he was right in saying that my friend would not chase me away and this led me to trust me even more. Then, George started having suspicions on the portal. He did not like the effect it had on Lizzy and did nothing but talk about the consultant detective >> he says twisting his nose. << He wanted to go to him and expose the case, but I kept telling him that he would not listen to him, because there was nothing wrong with that portal. Michael also supported my ideas. He asked me if by chance I wasn't jealous of the importance George attached to Sherlock and I never thought about it. George's been talking about him since he met him. I remember it well the morning George woke up and found Sherlock on the sofa in your home and he deduced things he couldn't have known about you just by looking at you. George talked to me about him for the whole lesson, leading the teacher to scold us several times. I thought Sherlock was a sort of superhero for him and, instead, I understood that he really likes him>> he says and Greg closes his stomach.

He had already speculated that his son may have had a crush on Sherlock, but hearing him say it aloud from the boy who says he loves him, stuns Greg to the point that he must make a good effort to stay on the piece.

<< It drive mi crazy >> continues the boy. << George continues to say that he does not know what he feels for me, that he does not know if he is too, that he does not want to do ... >> Leslie leaves the sentence hanging, looking at him embarrassed. << But he melts every time he receives a message from the consultant and his eyes sparkled as he talks about him. I couldn't stand it and I let it out with Michael. At the beginning he listened to me interested, trying to calm me down and make me think. Then, however, he started giving me strange advice >> says the boy shivering.

<< What kind of advice? >> Greg incites him.

<< He wanted me to spread the word about a relationship between the consultant and the inspector's son with whom he collaborates assiduously. I've always refused >> he hurries to clarify. << I have to admit that I didn't do it to save that man's reputation, but for George. He would have got in the way too and I didn't want to trouble him. The more I refused, the more Michael insisted and started to worry me. Then, Lizzy attempted suicide >> he says and Greg's wrists tremble at hearing him talk about this too. << George has started to present me with a whole series of proofs about the evil hidden behind the phoenix and I could not tell him that I had proof in favor of his thesis, because I didn't want to risk losing him. I cut off communications with Michael and unsubscribe from the portal. I thought this would be enough and for some time, in fact, I had no problems. Then, however, Rosaline Jackson killed herself, Sherlock was called to investigate and ... and everything started >>.

The tears stop him and Greg takes breath. He turns his gaze to Anthea, inscrutable and apparently impassive to the boy's suffering. That not finding any support in this woman worries Greg perhaps even more than the rest.

<< What started, Leslie? >> he ask the boy when the outburst ends.

<< The emails. The messages. Calls from Michael. He wanted me to do what he proposed to me, to put those rumors around, but I kept refusing. He threatened me, then, to put rumors around me, knowing full well that if they reached my father's ear I would be practically dead >> he shivers. << I could not understand how he could still threaten me since the portal, as George told me, had been dismantled by you and Sherlock thanks to the help of his brother. When I asked him, Michael laughed and told me that there is much more than just a portal behind this story and I felt like the greatest idiot for falling into it >>.

<< And so you thought that ending your life it was the best solution >> whispers Greg and the boy nods. << This Michael really put those rumors around, which culminated today with the fight in the locker room and you were afraid that your father would know about it and discover your secret >>, Leslie nods again and the crying starts again, this time silent and submissive.

<< Rather than seeing him angry, takes the belt and give it to me until he kill me, I prefer to jump from the bridge. But she didn't let me >> he says, glancing at Anthea, not at all touched by his contempt.

<< I would say that she did well >> says Greg. << Ok, take your things and follow me >> he says, standing up.

<< Why, where are we going? >> Leslie asks him worried.

<< I cannot leave you here at the mercy of your father and those who threaten you. So now I will take you to George and you will stay there until we have found a more suitable solution >>.

<< But my mother ... >>.

<< I'll talk to your mother >> he interrupts him peremptorily. << Leslie, I don't want you to be able to hurt yourself and I can't tolerate the idea that you can die, whether you decide to end your life, or that it is your father's troglodyte who does it. One should not fear for one's own safety just because one is 'different'. Because ‘different’, then, I would really like to understand it >> he says, bringing his hand to his eyes. << For me the ‘different’ are the so-called ‘normal’ who kill and harass those who say they are not like them and therefore unworthy of living >>.

<< Then I can't go to George, inspector. His mother ... well, I'm sorry to tell you, but your ex-wife doesn't think like you >>.

<< Since our son, from what you tell me, it is possible that he belongs to the "different", then she would do better to put her soul in peace, if she does not want me to make war this time to take away her children >>.

<< Would you really do it? >> asks the boy standing up. It is still a little bent on himself and gives the idea of being fragile as crystal. Greg smiles at him, thinking about how complex the human soul is. Leslie has always been taller than George and has grown much faster and faster than his son. On the rugby field, he is one of those players who cannot be pushed to the ground even to load him in four at a time. His shoulders are wide, his voice already low and he seem to be two or three more years older , and yet, at this moment, he seems a frightened wren. Greg feels a deep tenderness for this boy who has always considered to be George's best friend and therefore, in a sense, a putative son for him.

<< Of course I would, Les >> Greg says to him, placing his hand on his curved shoulder. << Nobody has the right to hurt you for who you are, for your ideas, for your feelings. Jesus, we are already beyond the first decade of 2000, such reasoning should not even be done anymore. I don't care if you're ethero, homo or bisexual. I want you to be alive and healthy >>.

The boy cries, moved, struggling to support his gaze. He slowly approaches Greg until he rests his forehead against Greg's shoulder.

<< Thanks >> he whispers in tears and Greg holds him in his arms. From the way in which he clings to him, he understands how much this boy needed the support of an adult and once again finds himself cursing those who conceived this portal and that mad criminal who helped them in their intent.

"And who tried to push this guy to give Sherlock on him to defame him and pursue his interests," he thinks.

<< Take a bag and put the essentials in it, Les. I'll wait here >> he says, encouraging him to recover, which seems to happen more easily after this hug.

The boy goes to his room, leaving him alone with Anthea.

<< You and your chief knew about these threats, didn't you? >> he asks, turning to her, who diligently put the chair back in its place.

<< My chief and I are trying to save you and your loved ones, Greg. I assure you it is not easy at all >> she says, turning to him.

<< It would be more if you shared your problems, instead of keeping them secret >>.

<< And what do you think we should do? A self-help group for the victims of that criminal? >> she asks ironically, putting on hir lips the same smile as her chief.

<< Do you realize how much the secrets cause problems, Anthea? >> he says, approaching her. << starting from the one used by Moriarty to blackmail your chief up to this one from Leslie, the secrets are only a source of trouble >>.

<< Does this mean that you, Inspector, don't have any? >> the woman challenges him, in turn taking a step towards him.

<< No, my dear, I have no secrets for anyone. I have never killed except in self-defense or in a police action, I have never betrayed who I thought loved me, I have never cheated, deceived, manipulated anyone, I am a perfect idiot, as the Holmes would say. Completely unable to take advantage of situations, let alone people! >>.

<< An unassailable man, in short >> says once again ironically Anthea.

<< Oh, no, you're wrong. They can attack me on affections, on feelings, on work. In these things I am vulnerable, but it is different from lying to the point of getting into trouble with your own hands >>.

They look at each other for a long time, surrounded by a silence full of tension.

<< My chief is right, Lestrade. You are a really interesting man >> she says, peering at him with the same air of a scientist who observes a laboratory sample that he reviews every time on the face of Mycroft.

<< The laboratory mouse in turn studies the observer, Anthea, don't you know? >> Greg retorts, moving a step towards her so as to be very close. << I want the truth, without notes and without omissions >>.

<< It is not for me to tell you >> retorts her, taking a step back.

<< Oh, it's true. Your job is to open doors, take notes and run to save kids in difficulty >>.

<< Not just kids, Lestrade >> she says with a strange smile on her lips. Anthea completely changes her expression, hardening her gaze, and quickly her hand runs to grab the collar of Greg's shirt. << Who do you think eliminated the killer who was going to kill you, huh? >> she whispers aggressively without letting him go.

Greg blinks several times in disbelief. He must admit that this woman's immediate change scares him. Her grip is strong, her gaze decided and Greg realizes that the secretary constantly focused on the smartphone could really be able to kill a killer.

<< Mycroft said he had put the best of his elements on me >> he whispers in amazement.

<< The one who has the task of protecting him, trained by the secret services and chosen from a shortlist of more than qualified candidates, yes >> Anthea says and her lips curve into a smile more like a grin. << You are damned important and you don't even realize it, little man who easily falls prey to his frustrations >> she says, pushing him away from her.

Greg can't believe he's in front of ... well, a killer. Secret services certainly do not train skilled princesses in embroidery. He had to expect it from someone like Mycroft. Being surrounded by an escort would have given too much attention and, although it may seem paradoxical, given the prominent place it occupies, it is not the type of man that likes to be the center of attention. Instead, combining the usefulness of an efficient secretary with the practicality of a bodyguard more than prepared and, of course, keeping everything properly hidden is more in his style.

Greg remembers Jadescu's CV well. He doesn't dare to imagine what Anthea's could be, if she managed to get him out. Instinctively bring his hand to massage his left arm, remembering how that of the fake agent was broken in several places with surgical precision.

"Better not make her angry!" Greg thinks determined, however, not to get his feet on her head.

<< Thank you >> he says, catching her attention.

<< It's my job >> she replies shrugging. << What are you going to do with that kid? >> she asks him, changing the subject. Greg would like to think that she is uncomfortable talking about her work and what this entails, but he believes that there is no guilt, no remorse for this woman. Anthea carries out the orders of her chief and is loyal to him.

<< I take it to George, as I told him. Do you have a better idea? >>.

<< No >> she replies and Greg can't help but think that in fact she is not paid for ideas. Be careful, however, to keep this consideration for himself. << We will strengthen control around your ex's home and your family >>.

<< Do you trust the people you manage, Anthea? >>.

<< As of myself, Gregory >> she replies and returns to her lips that circumstantial smile that makes her so similar to her chief.

<< Then we have a problem >> he says, taking her by surprise. << Because although you saved my life, although you prevented Leslie from taking his life off, I can't trust you and even those who command you >>.

The woman smiles and seems to be satisfied with his distrust.

<< I will take you to who will be able to tell you the truth >>.

<< It would be the third time he tells me, this >> he snorts, that he doesn't really want to be fooled anymore.

<< It could be the right one >> she replies winking.

Leslie returns to the living room, interrupting their squabble. He carries the bag of the rugby association over his shoulder and the school backpack on his shoulders, both full up to burst, a sign that he has taken seriously his intention to help him.

<< My mother will come home for seven. I wrote her a ticket to not make her worry about my absence >> he says, showing him a dense written sheet of paper.

<< Leave it to her where you know she will notice it immediately. I will try to be here in time to talk to her >>.

<< Go easy on her, please. This story destroys her a little more every day >> he confesses and it is excruciating to see how worried he is. Greg sees both of his children in Leslie and thinks that if there is something that is not normal, it is this concern that the children feel for their parents. This continuous attempt to protect them so as not to see them suffer.

<< Don't worry. I know what she's going through >> Greg says and the boy smiles for the first time.

<< I know, inspector. Your wife did not send you to the hospital several times with bruises and broken bones, but the effect of her actions and words is not so different from that of my father's hands >> he says with a perfect analysis of that which is his condition.

Greg strokes his hair and invites him to follow Anthea out of the apartment. Leslie turn to look at that living room, as if he wants to impress it in his mind for fear of never seeing it again. The same gesture must have done it all the other times when the social worker on duty took him from that house to take him to a safer place.

"This should be your safe place," Greg thinks, seeing him leave the house. "It should be for everyone."


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Greg sighs, softly abandoned on the passenger seat of the car driven by Anthea. The woman insisted that they move to their destinations using the blue and anonymous car, with which they accompanied Leslie to George and who now sees them going to the Diogenes Club.

They travel in silence, one guide, the other brooding over his thoughts. On his ex-wife's gaze, fixed on Leslie. Greg hadn't expected an exultant welcome from her at the proposal to host the boy, and he was certain that Margaret would not openly express herself in her disagreement with his children. Greg had hoped, however, with all of himself not to see that look. That judgment. That fear.

<< I will keep an eye on his father. He will have no way of coming here to bother you, don't worry >> he had reassured Margaret, painfully realizing how she had not even thought about that possibility. This is not the thing that frightens her, the only real danger that could challenge her.

<< Do you think it's appropriate to make them sleep in the same room? >> she had in fact asked him in a whisper, worried more about this than about the rest.

<< I do not see why not, Maggie >> he replied and she twisted nose.

"In all these years I haven't noticed," Greg thinks, shaking his head. Greg takes a cigarette from the package he keeps in his jacket pocket. << Does it bother you if I smoke? >> he asks Anthea, who shakes her head, her eyes fixed on the road. He lights the cigarette and takes a long puff.

He and Margaret had together for ten years and Greg has never noticed her homophobia. Of course, they never got in touch with homosexual men and women and they never talked about it at home and maybe that's why Greg didn't realize how his woman, his partner, the mother of his children was homophobic. The joke made to Leslie about the war to take away their children from Margaret comes back to Greg mind and he discovers that he has no desire for other problems. Greg sighs, blowing a cloud of smoke that wraps around his face making his eyes burn.

<< How many sighs, Inspector >> Anthea tells him, without looking at him.

<< I only have these. Let me express them, please >>.

<< Oh, come on, I do not think that is the case to be victimistic >> she replies smiling. << You are not the first to marry the wrong person of whom you had a totally wrong idea >>.

<< This should cheer me up? >> he asks and the girl laughs disrespectfully.

<< No, actually no. I'm sorry, Gregory >> she says, placing her hand on Greg's knee and then bring it back to the wheel. << I know that my sorrow is nothing for you, but it is sincere. I must say, however, that you learned from your mistakes and threw yourself on a more intelligent woman, open-minded and respectful of others' thoughts >>.

Greg is not so surprised that Anthea knows about his lunches with Molly. She and her chief even know what the people they keep an eye on don't know about themselves.

<< I didn't threw myself on anything. I'm too messed up to threw myself on anything >> Greg retorts, puffing another cloud of smoke.

<< And Molly know it? >> she asks him and seems sorry of the thing.

<< We didn't say anything. Since there is nothing >>.

<< And that kiss? >> Anthea asks, blinking her long eyelashes.

<< Do you and your chief have nothing better to do than to spend the days spying on others? >> Greg asks her, annoyed and she immediately returns to look at the road.

<< It was an attempt at conversation >>.

<< Why should we converse? >>.

<< It's what people do, isn't it? >>.

Greg laughs and he doesn't care if this reaction of his may seem disrespectful and judgmental. He does not even know why this woman's joke has moved all this hilarity. Perhaps he cannot separate the image of the secretary and, recently discovered, killer bodyguard, from that of the woman who wants to have a chat to fill the silence of a passenger compartment that forces an unwelcome proximity.

<< Well, at least I managed to make you laugh >> she serious mumbles and, yes, it seems that Greg offended her with his laughter.

"Applies to the times when you laughed at me," he thinks pleased.

<< I can imagine how difficult your life is, Anthea >> he replies, determined to increase the dose. << All day behind your icy chief, the gaze perpetually attached to your smartphone, complicated speeches, certainly boring and the constant wait for something to happen. An exceptional talent forced into the role of a perfect secretary. Yes, there must be a lot of frustration in you if you get to want to converse with me >>.

The girl takes advantage of the red light to turn to him. Her gaze is indecipherable. It could be said angry, offended, irritated, but also amazed.

<< You underestimate yourself, Gregory >> she tells him, driving again at the green light. << You made a good analysis. In fact, sometimes a few lighter topics and informal moments would make my life easier. Contrary to what you can imagine, the stimuli linked to danger and the possibility to fight, I assure you that there is no shortage. Especially in recent times >> she says, taking him by surprise.

Apparently Jadescu's elimination was not an isolated case brought about by extraordinary circumstances. Greg wonders how many people this woman has to eliminate in a month on behalf of her chief, and discovers he doesn't want to know. Also because if Moriarty is behind most of Mycroft's decisions, the woman who sits next to him would be carrying out the orders not of her chief, but of the Napoleon of the crime, becoming, in effect, his accomplice.

<< What you said to me last time, in the short trip we made together from the Met to the pub, intrigued me >> Anthea continues. << If I tried to start a conversation again this time it's only because I found it interesting to talk to you, Greg. Mycroft does not spend much on philosophical discourse, nor on simple concepts and more within the reach of all minds and, yes, I admit that it is difficult to follow him when he leaves for his pindaric flights. I don't even think that interests him whether I can keep up with him or not. I think I'm a sort of accessory, as a teaser, revolver or tape recorder. He talk to without expecting it to respond >>.

<< Quite humiliating >> notes Greg and she sports a bitter smile.

<< Oh, you and John most of the time play the same role with Sherlock >> downplay the girl. << It is a bit the price to pay to be able to stay by their side, since it is the only way in which they know how to express interest. It's what you were talking about the other time, taming. It is difficult to look at the world with other eyes after having glimpsed it through their filter >>.

<< Yes >> agrees Greg, realizing how, since he has been dealing with Sherlock, he has taken on not only some of his attitudes, but has also changed his ideas on humankind. << It's scary, don't you think? >> he asks her, giving her an accomplice smile.

<< It depends on what this fear is >> she reciprocates. << If you are afraid of being alone, losing your other knowledge for your new way of seeing the world and things is a thing. If, on the other hand, you are frightened by the idea of how foolish human beings are after all, lost in the problematic situations that they themselves create or allow to be involved is another >>.

<< And what's the difference >> Greg thinks, finding this conversation interesting.

<< In the first case you are afraid of growing, in the second you are growing and this entails making choices >>.

<< Who to keep next and who to let go >> Greg continues in his place.

<< Taking responsibility for one's own decisions and, on balance, for one's own life >> Anthea nods. << Do you know what is the thing that strikes me most about you, Greg? >> Anthea says, turning her gaze to him.

<< My exceptional personality? >> Greg replies, making her laugh the way he always seems to make fun of him.

<< Yes, in a sense it is just this >> she nods and notices only now, Greg, how the sincere smile softens her the features making her even more beautiful.

<< Sherlock has ruined your life. The opposite cannot be said, after all. Yes, it may not have been his fault >> she says, interrupting , raising her hand, his attempt to reply. << But, albeit indirectly, he was the cause of the end of your marriage, he put your children's safety, your own life and even your beloved job at risk. Yet you continue to believe in him >> hse says, clapping her hand over the wheel. << You would leave with a drawn sword to defend him, if necessary. You would go against the rest of the world to save Sherlock's reputation if it were needed. Which you already do, constantly arguing with Donovan and Anderson, completely opposed to your persistence in seeking Sherlock's help. And this despite him continuing undaunted, directly or not, to cause you bigger and bigger troubles. Mycroft is exactly like you >> she says, taking him by surprise. << In the first years of working by his side, I asked myself why he didn't just get rid of a brother like that. He could have done it and nobody in his environment would have accused him of indifference. Instead, Mycroft still pays his team of controllers who keep an eye on the cameras in search of his brother. When Sherlock was still using drugs, after a day spent between senior summits and cabinet meetings, during which his was one of the person that could change the fate of the world, he went to places where he was told he had been spotted on brother and went to retrieve him. Too many times I have seen Sherlock completely made to give him and Mycroft to take the blows, dragging him undaunted away from yet another den of desperate people. At that time I didn't know what made Mycroft do it and when I found out I was, like you, impressed. Not so much from the fact that he killed his father to save his brother, but from the immense love he feels for Sherlock. Perhaps he manifests it in a way that neither you nor I can understand. In a way that perhaps Sherlock doesn't understand, yet it is. That boy is the living manifestation of Mycroft emotional side. He calls it guilt, but it's not just that that moves him >>.

<< It's his only reason for living >> whispers Greg, remembering what Mycroft said in their meeting in the car.

<< That's right >> Anthea nods. << Do you understand now why you are damned important, Greg? >>.

The detective nods and runs his hand over his shocked face. He can't believe it. He never claimed to be important to anyone and to be honest it is a feeling that fills him with anxiety. When in the eyes of his children he sees that need, that unconditional affection always asks himself if he is up to it and he says promptly no, which can never do enough. It takes his breath away, to think that Mycroft, from the height of his position of prestige and command, could consider him, a simple chief inspector of Scotland Yard, an important person.

<< You with that proposal, with your trusting on Sherlock, you saved Mycroft's only reason for living >>.

Hearing Anthea put this thing into words makes Greg uncomfortable. Suddenly the car seat becomes uncomfortable and the seat belt too tight against his chest.

<< It's too much >> Greg can only say, by lowering the window in need of air.

<< I can imagine it. You only saw a boy that needed help and you did the simplest thing that could come to your mind: you helped him. You have also seen the possibility of helping yourself thanks to Sherlock's skills, of course, but this loyalty to him shows that there is more than just using him >>.

<< Hey, listen, don't ... >>.

<< No, no, don't worry >> she laughs, raising her hand again to interrupt him. << I'm not so stupid to think you lost your mind for Sherlock, like John Watson. I only say that there is no doubt that you love him >>.

Greg smiles and realizes that this is indeed the case. Mycroft has so far told him that Sherlock considers him a better older brother than he is. Perhaps Greg is also moved by a brotherly love for Sherlock. The younger brother he never had and that he had long desired. What he looked for in friends he had, but never have been. Because there is a profound difference between a friend and a brother, beyond the genetic heritage. A friend can travel part of your journey with you. You can confide in him, you can trust him, you can even fight for him and take all the responsibilities to keep him out of trouble. Friendship, however, can end, the roads divide and the person with whom we used to spend hours of chatter and secrets before, can become the perfect stranger he was before meeting him.

A brother, on the other hand, knows the mud you come from because he is also part of it. In turn, he can fulfill all the characteristics of the friend, with the difference that even if we divide, even if we fight, the unconditional love remains that makes even the anger we feel different.

Touched, Greg now makes sense of many things.

<< lt John also saved him, shooting Hope >> he says, feeling he has to shared with someone the weight he feels to have been placed on his shoulders by those words. Unexpectedly, the woman laughs heartily, as if she had made the most amusing of the jokes.

<< John Watson has put my chief to the test since the first frame of the two of them which was proposed to him by one of our controllers >> she says, rolling his eyes.

<< Why? Sherlock has changed a lot since John was by his side >>.

<< Which means that if he leaves, Sherlock would collapse and you can well imagine where someone like him could go >> replies her, looking him in the eye.

Greg can't help agreeing with her. Love is a strange feeling, of those capable of giving a lot and taking everything away in a matter of moments and Greg knows this well.

<< And then there is also another thing >> Anthea adds, smiling sweetly. << A very ... tender thing, in my opinion >> she specifies, becoming small small.

<< What? >> Greg asks amused by her expressions.

<< Mycroft never thought about the possibility that Sherlock could find someone to be well with. A man who is able to love him, in essence, and I think this idea was made partly because of his father and partly because of the selfish conviction that he is the only one able to love Sherlock and give him what he needs >>.

<< A mother who is jealous and overprotective, yes, I noticed him >> smiles Greg.

<< Although knowing that Sherlock is happy would fill Mycroft with joy, at the same time he feels that he would lose him. If Sherlock was able to walk on his legs, to make sensible decisions, things that, in my opinion, he is very well able to do, but how, you know, are difficult things to explain to an apprehensive mother >> she says, squeezing him eye. << If Sherlock were capable of it, I said, he could go away and make his own life and Mycroft would lose him >>.

<< This shows how your chief is not immune to love at all >>.

<< Oh for nothing >> she laughs. << Although, unfortunately, it is the only form of love that he granted to himself >> sighs her.

Greg looks at her in amazement at what he seems to have glimpsed from the way she pronounced the last sentence. Greg would like to dare and openly ask her the question that runs through his head but they are not so confident. It's one thing to talk about the Holmes brothers, it's another to go into more personal areas. Anthea seems to realize this silent work and smiles, turning her gaze.

<< I was jealous of you, you know? >> she says, taking him by surprise.

<< Jealous of ... me? >> he repeats incredulously, giving even more light to her smile.

<< Oh yes >> she confirms with a sigh. << I thought that my chief could have an interest in you that went beyond gratitude and esteem. You know, I can tolerate his brother, a stranger does not >> she says, giving him a dirty look.

Greg would not want anything in the world to have this woman against him and he is happy that his jealousy is unfounded.

<< So you ... what will you do? >> he asks curious. << Will you remain in the shadows to sigh for a man you know has decided to give himself as the only expression of affection the love he feels for his brother? >>.

<< It is possible that this is what I need >> she replies shrugging.

Greg remembers the story of mutual needs to be met, which, according to Mycroft, are what ordinary mortals call 'love' and he can't help but chuckle shaking their heads.

<< You have addomesticate yourself well, Anthea >> he says and is a bitter smile that curves her lips.

<< I can be a great fox, Greg >> she says, winking at him. << Just as you know you are messed up. Apparently we are able to accept our limits and our ability to ... miss opportunities >>.

It is clear the reference to what he told her about Molly and the consequent arrow. John is the kind of person who never misses an opportunity and if he were here now he would take a look very similar to Anthea's. Greg, however, is not very much in agreement with the 'nail drives away nail' tactic. Not with a sensitive woman like the pathologist.

<< Here we are >> the woman informs him, diverting him from his thoughts. << Are you still of the idea of wanting to know the truth? >> she asks him, how she wanted to offer him one last chance to back down. Greg realizes that the conversation he had with her about truth has brought several to the surface and above all has allowed him to clarify his ideas on many things. However, he nods, determined to tumble all the way down into the white rabbit hole.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

The silence is deafening in this place. The carpet and the frescoed ceiling reduce the size of the room, making it claustrophobic. The furniture is far too refined, to the point that Greg would call it tacky, but he is not one of the great men who frequent this club and, therefore, he cannot understand or appreciate this kind of thing.

He find absurd the waiters in livery with packed shoes to muffle the noise trying to minimize it. Greg wonders what would happen if his phone started ringing now or if, more trivially, a sneeze escaped him. He laughs at that idea. This place where silence is a golden rule brings out a great desire to make noise.

He has been sitting in this waiting room for guests for almost twenty minutes. Greg did not expect Mycroft to keep him waiting, given the haste that, on the other hand, Anthea put to him.

"He's going to be dealing with some other great character to avoid who knows what war," he thinks, though he realizes he might be dealing to blow it up.

<< Since when do you know such dangerous people? >> Margaret asked him when Mycroft had left home. His ex-wife of this man knows nothing, yet she has decided to turn to him with that term. Dangerous. Yes, Greg once again has to reiterate how Sherlock's brother is. Despite what Anthea has just told him about Mycroft, the fact that finding him against him does nothing good is pure truth.

Maybe he should leave. He has more urgent things to do, like talking to Leslie's mother, for example, and finding out who's behind the threats made to the boy. What does he need yet another meeting with Mycroft? Anthea has already made him aware of a good portion of the truth, highlighting how important he is to his chief. Is it perhaps there for that? To magnify the satisfaction he felt mixed with the weight of what he felt as a great responsibility. Or it's there for another reason. A motivation that is trying to ignore, but that like a woodworm makes its way to be heard.

<< I was jealous of you, you know? >>

This sentence from Anthea torments Greg.

<< I thought that my chief could have an interest in you that went beyond gratitude and esteem >>.

An interest. Sitting in this too silent room, Greg thoughts reverberate making a lot of noise. He reviews Mycroft's analytical gaze, the one that made him feel like a laboratory rat. The Holmes have their own way of expressing interest, of taking care, of protecting. What if that look indicates something other than the scientific curiosity of which you have the idea of being a target?

"Anthea, however, would not have expressed herself in the past," Greg says, moving uncomfortably in his chair. He gets up and starts walking back and forth, stamping his feet hard in search of a noise that can divert him from these thoughts. There is no satisfaction, however, in the subdued "puff" of the soles of his shoes against the carpet.

"Can you explain what would be wrong?" As if that wasn't enough, John comes to ask him uncomfortable questions. “You are not forced to stay there, as you were not with Jordan. Or maybe ... ".

<< Shut up! >> Greg exclaims, beating his forehead and his sudden voice makes a strange effect in the silence.

"I'm definitely too confused," Greg thinks, letting himself fall on the chair. John start a relationship with Sherlock; George doesn't know how to feel about his friend; Sally that shamelessly trying to kiss him; Jordan's advances, Margaret that trying to seduce him and Molly ... Greg sighs, thinking back to that simple kiss that gave her and that Anthea immediately reported as an important fact.

"And it is so, wow" Greg thinks.

A kiss is not like a handshake or a hug. Even when it is not driven by passion or desire, it is still something very intimate. He could also throw it on a deeper friendship to which manifestations of this type are granted, even if it has never happened to him and he doesn't believe in it too much. Molly, however, may not see her at all like that. She may have taken it as a forerunner for something more and he has repeated himself many times that he doesn't wants to hurt her.

"She doesn't deserve it," Greg sighs, placing his elbows over his knees. He could be begin a very beautiful story with Molly, since this woman has to admit he likes him a lot, and does not want to ruin her because of his confusion.

"Then make sure to get yourself back together, otherwise the confusion will become a good and good excuse, Greg" John points out.

Greg realizes that he misses the doctor. He would need one of their pub nights to drink beer and talk. Really speaking, as had never happened to Greg. At the beginning, he thought it was John's profession that made him so inclined to listening, caring and able to put him at ease to the point of opening up. Now Greg realizes that combined with this there must also be John's nature that fishes from both halves of the universe. He would have questions to ask about it. Not only to have more information to use to manage his son, but also because this kind of things are so far from him.

"So how do we put it with Mycroft?" John asks him with a half laugh in his voice.

<< We do not put it in any way >> Greg replies, realizing that he is in tension. It is repeated that Anthea does not see him as a rival and that, therefore, Mycroft's curiosity must be only curiosity, in fact. Or, more simply, the ice man also needs a friend.

"That's what I said to him, after all. We are friends, " Greg thinks, although he can't imagine himself living with Mycroft an evening like with John, for example. "They are two completely different people" Greg justifies it. "And Mycroft admitted that he doesn't know what a friend is" he thinks, finding himself laughing again at Mycroft's having objectified an individual.

One of the waiters in livery enters the waiting room. Greg shuts up, fearing that he will be reprimanded for his slight snickering and stands up.

<< Mister Holmes can receive you, sir. Please, follow me >> he says, turning on his heels and slipping making his way.

Greg expected to be led down to Mycroft's private office in this club. Instead, he is in another room that the valet leads Greg, after having traversed countless intricate corridors in absolute silence. Greg did not imagine that this place could be so large.

The detective takes a deep breath and knocks too loudly on the door in front of which the valet left him. The cordial invitation to enter takes him unprepared. He peeps into the room, feeling himself be the most idiotic human being on the face of the earth.

<< Gregory >> Mycroft greets him, getting up from his chair. << Please, take a seat >> invites him, pointing to the armchair.

Lestrade did not expect so much kindness. Of course, this Holmes has always been polite, even too much for his tastes, but now he seems almost happy to see him. This behavior reinforces the thoughts he has just left behind. Greg takes small, uncertain steps in this square room with heavy drapes, brick-red carpet and wood-paneled walls.

<< I asked to be able to receive you in this small room usually used for playing chess >> Mycroft says, pointing to a chessboard with pieces carved in black and white marble, silently lying on a small table in the center of the room.

<< I guess this place is safer >> says Greg, sitting down in the armchair.

<< Yes, it is so. Anthea told me you wanted to talk to me and here we can do it undisturbed and ... unheard >> he underlines and his lips stretch out in a smile, as he sits down in turn. Mycroft puts his fingers under his chin, just like his brother. In front of that detail, Greg must try not to laugh.

<< I think I have to thank you for keeping an eye on Leslie. He wouldn't be among us anymore if you hadn't sent Anthea to him >> he says sincerely grateful.

<< That boy would have been yet another innocent victim of that crazy Moriarty. But it's not just to thank me that you're here >> notes Mycroft, peering at him with his usual scientist's gaze. Yes, it is only a curious gaze that does not underlie any other interest.

<< Actually no >> Greg admits << But, you see ... I realize that I am no longer driven by the same desire for knowledge that I had when I told Anthea to want to talk to you >>.

<< So why are you here? >> Mycroft asks him, half closing his curious eyes.

<< I am… confused, Mycroft >> Greg admitted, by placing his elbows over his knees. Holmes says nothing. He merely observes him, letting the heavy blanket of silence fall on them. << When I understood, thanks to Leslie, that you had not been sincere with me, the only thought I had was to run around looking for you and blow you up. I felt fooled. Then, however ... during the journey I spoke with Anthea and what we said has turned off this anger and now I ... I am tired >> he confesses, placing his hand on his face.

Mycroft continues to remain silent, his face impassive and it is a strange feeling of annoyance that envelops Greg. Strange because it is as if Mycroft forced him to open himself in response to his apparent closure.

<< That boy was about to kill himself for fear that his father would discover his homosexuality. It's terrible. Terribly bigger than me, this thing >> he sighs, massaging the face. << I had the absurd illusion that the situations on which my work leads me to investigate, the people who makes me meet and what they live would never have affected me closely. Instead here I am >> Greg says, straightening his back. << My daughter has attempted suicide twice, my son has doubts about his sexuality, his best friend is in love with him and my ex wife >>, he sighs, closing his eyes, << my ex wife tries to seduce me to keep me with her to help her with our children and Moriarty is a cancer impossible to overcome. I ... I can't take it anymore, Myc >> Greg whispers, abandoning himself against the back of the armchair.

Greg feels like a real idiot right now. He had left Leslie's house intending to meet Mycroft to vent his anger and force him to tell how things really are. Instead, here he was there, to acting the role of the exhausted victim of a battle impossible to win.

<< I can imagine how you feel. Believe me >> Mycroft whispers, coming out of his silence. Greg looks up to meet his and no longer finds the impassive mask that has been his face so far. A sad smile curves his lips, to which Greg replies without even realizing it.

<< I know >> Greg says << and maybe that's why I'm talking about it. I realize only now that you too have faced and are still facing a good part of what I am experiencing. I need a friend to talk to and we said that we are friend >>.

<< Yes >> Mycroft nods and the detective seems to have red cheeks. << Friendship is a thing ... strange >> he says, thinning his gaze even more. << I had never considered it, but since you told me about it ... I have evaluated the possibility >>.

<< I am pleased >> Greg smiles happily at the idea of having taught something to this apparently glacial man. Mycroft looks away and the detective is surprised at his embarrassment. It would be so easy to make fun of him, to destroy him in a thousand pieces laughing at him, to induce him to close again and, instead, it is pleasant to witness this slow opening.

<< I kept you waiting because I received updates from Sherlock >> Mycroft says, bringing the subject to less personal facts.

<< Updates? >> Greg says, surprised. << Isn't it dangerous for him to tell you what he's doing? >>.

<< Not now that he takes the necessary precautions >> Mycroft replies and Greg sees once again the embarrassment on his face.

<< Did you tell him to be under blackmail? >> he asks, caught by this sudden intuition.

<< Not me, Greg >> sighs with that drawn smile. << Those Spaniards are really smart >> he admits in spite of himself. << Gray Stone, their chief, found out about the blackmail and the motivation that gave him birth >>.

<< So now Sherlock knows that you have ...? >> Greg exclaims, leaving the sentence pending. Mycroft nods slowly. << Jesus. How did he react? >>.

<< Sherlock limited himself to saying that he had always found it strange that our father died of a heart attack, since such a man could not have a heart >> Mycroft smiles while remaining infinitely sad.

<< How are you? >> Greg asks him, leaning towards him. He would like to be able to take Mycroft's hand, hold it in his and infuse a little of the warmth of which he sees as missing.

<< Me? >> he asks him, sketching a laugh. << I should have been the one to tell him about it, not a group of journalists with anything but conventional methods >> he says between his teeth. << If I didn't, it was because I didn't want to give him the idea that everything can be solved by ending the life of those who stand in our way >> Mycroft says, looking Greg in the eye. << Yes, Greg, I thought a lot about your words, your insistence that killing is never the solution >> he admits and this time it's up to Greg to feel embarrassed. << Sherlock has always acted on the limits of legality. In order to obtain justice in the past, he used slightly coercive means. I don't think he would have killed even if I had told him what I did to save him, but, although He can't stand it, I know I'm a point of reference for him. Sherlock doesn't approve of the things I do for the government, the way I let myself be used as a 'keeper of the broom cupboard', as he says. I am happy with this. My brother has many flaws, but he is not a murderer. I ... well, let's say that I don't really have a place in heaven waiting for me >>.

Greg doesn't quite know what to say. As he said to Anthea, he can be sure he has no secrets and his great sense of respect for the law leads him not to look favorably on attitudes similar to those perpetrated by Mycroft. He cannot, however, at this moment feel neither anger nor disgust towards him. This deep tenderness and compassion persists.

<< Now that Sherlock knows ... I think you realized how this brings the threat of Moriarty to decay >> Greg says, taking him by surprise.

<< I don't see how it can. It's true, my brother is now aware of it, but the rest of the world is not, fortunately >>.

<< You would have all the mitigating factors to get out with a reduced penalty >> he says, seeing him stiffen. Mycroft crosses his legs and presses his back against the back of the harmchair, hardening his gaze, completely offended and frightened by Greg words.

<< You don't realize what you are saying >> he retorts acid. << I would lose everything. My job, my position in this environment, the people who turn to me for advice and assistance. Everything >>

<< Are these things really so important, Mycroft? >> Greg asks him, feeling strangely calm in front of his contained fury. << Although I'm not an important person like you, I know what it means to lose everything. I lost my family because of my job. I lost the woman who I thought loved me and who turned into a monster, who, for the evil she did to me and who is still doing me, I can define a female version of Moriarty in my eyes >> he says, and Mycroft snort a laugh. << I risked losing my children and constantly I'm afraid that someone could take them away from me or to see them go away disappointed and always because of the damn job I love. Love, however, is quite another thing, Mycroft, and I'm only rediscovering it now. Now that I've lost everything >> Greg says and Mycroft eyes thin once again curious. << I can imagine how losing all of this frightens you. I would feel myself like dying if they sent me away from Scotland Yard. I had not thought about how much to involve your brother in the cases assigned to me could endanger my work until Donovan told me openly just a few days ago. Yet if my job could become a danger for my children I would not hesitate to do without it >> he says, causing the skeptical arching of Mycroft's eyebrows. << If someone threatened to take away what I built, forcing me to stain myself with actions and crimes that I would not otherwise commit, then I would not hesitate to leave him, Mycroft >>.

<< Evidently, Greg, you are a man with a much firmer ethics and morals than mine and certainly much more courageous >> Mycroft replies and Greg does not understand if he is making fun of him or if he is serious.

<< This is a great shit, Mycroft >> he exclaims resolutely. Mycroft smiles at his attitude and takes a deep breath.

<< There was a plan originally >> Mycroft says in a sigh, taking Greg by surprise with this sudden change of speech. << Sherlock should have to leave the scene and work incognito, introducing himself into Moriarty's network to eliminate it one piece at a time >>.

<< Leaving the scene? >> Greg asks, leaning curiously towards him.

<< Staging his suicide >> he replies, leaving him speechless. << It wasn't clear yet how to do it, as I told you it was an idea, and I must say that I'm happy that it has been set aside >>.

<< I don't understand why he found it necessary to pretend to be dead >>.

<< Because it would have been the only way to prevent Moriarty from hurting you, Mrs. Hudson and John >> Mycroft explains, leaving Greg even more speechless. << As long as Sherlock is alive all of you are in danger, but if he dies then it no longer makes sense for that criminal to keep all of you under fire >>.

<< It's… crazy >> whispers Greg, who finds himself using this term every time he makes him aware of the truths behind this story.

<< But logical >> Mycroft replies. << Obviously, Moriarty had understood his intent. That bastard is almost as brilliant as Sherlock and he knew he would come to think of a crazy solution like this just to save all of you. Moriarty asked me to convince Sherlock to keep John in the dark about everything >>.

<< What? >> Greg exclaims loudly. << Jesus, John would have gone mad with pain >>.

<< And, most likely, he would have killed himself >> concludes Mycroft nodding.

<< And so Moriarty would do what he promised: he would burn Sherlock heart. Holy Christ >> Greg exclaims, abandoning himself again against the back of the armchair.

<< I had not yet started this attempt to persuade. I absolutely didn't want to, knowing what it would lead to. John ... here I still don't know if I can trust him, but apparently he really cares about my brother's well-being. I don't think it's just an adventure for him >> he says, showing himself in difficulty with the use of similar terms.

<< Oh my God, I still struggle to believe that they are together >> admits Greg, shaking his head at that idea. << Jesus, just John. One of his comrades who joined us for a drink on a Friday night called him ' Watson Three continents' for having brought women from three continents to bed. And now he finish with a man >> Greg chuckles shaking his head. << And not an 'ordinary man', but the only consultant detective in the world >>.

<< It was not just women from the three continents >> Mycroft points out, raising an eyebrow.

They exchange a look, one amazed, the other serious, and gradually melt into irreverent laughter.

<< Fuck, I can't believe it >> reiterates Greg between laughter. << Yes, I think I understand why you don't know whether to trust him. It is, however, their life >> he says, returning seriously. << I know that you fear that Sherlock may fall back into drugs, in case their story ends, but the conditions are different now. His job as an consultant detective is much more initiated than before and he has grown up. You should give him a little more confidence >>.

<< Anthea >> shakes his head Mycroft, amused. << That blessed girl >> laughs, having obviously sensed their conversation.

<< That girl really cares about you, my friend. I will do my business, however, and I will not tell you that in my opinion you risk losing a great opportunity >> he says, winking at him.

<< This kind of thing is not for me, Gregory >> Mycroft replies, embarrassed by his confidence. Greg thinks he has gone too far, but at the same time he doesn't worry about it.

<< You told me that Moriarty had not taken good to know that John and Sherlock have decided to discover the cards >> he says, however, bringing the topic on more serious speeches.

<< Not at all >> sighs Mycroft. << In fact, since the staging of the suicide was skipped and, consequently, he could no longer force me to urge Sherlock to separate from John, Moriarty decided to start playing the bank >>.

<< What do you mean? >> asks confused Greg. Mycroft takes a deep breath and gets up from the armchair.

<< I need something strong. Do you keep me company? >> asks him and Greg is amazed at his words.

<< Gladly >> he says, imagining that if Mycroft needs something to take courage, he can only have to take double to take the hit.

<< London dry gin >> he says, handing him the heavy crystal glass.

<< We go heavy >> notes Greg worried, accepting the glass. Mycroft merely sketches a smile returning to his seat. He takes a sip from his glass and Greg does the same, feeling the strong taste of the liquor burning his eyes and throat.

<< I told you that Moriarty was not interested in your children. That they were safe >> Mycroft says, his gaze fixed on the glass. << But as you have noticed from what happened to your son's friend, it is not like that >>. Greg's heart beats fast and a part of him would like not to listen to what he is about to reveal. Mycroft takes another few moments and another sip. << Fox had noticed how the messages sent to your daughter were different from those sent to other children encouraged to commit suicide. How the photos that were edited with Photoshop and put online dated back to a time much earlier than the events and were not present on the girl's computer, neither on her mobile phone nor on her friends' social networks >>.

<< Did they keep an eye on her? >> Greg shivers and Mycroft nods.

<< Your son's friend, Leslie, has been used for the same purpose, since George was more difficult to approach by Moriarty's men >> he says, with a note of pride in his voice for the boy.

<< Leslie told me that they were threatening him to spread the rumor of a relationship between George and Sherlock >> sighs Greg, passing his hand over his face. << Why all this, Myc? What is the purpose of attacking my children? >>.

<< To destroy you, Gregory >> Mycroft answers directly. << Defame yourself through their unacceptable conduct >> he adds and the detective realizes what an attempt is that recalls what Sherlock did with his family. Put him in a bad light because of his homosexuality and his dedication to cocaine. Moriarty can be not only crazy and dangerous, but also cynical in the way he orchestrates his plans. << The first move would have been to put Elisabeth to the public on the social, portrayed in equivocal photos >> continues Mycroft. << This would have stung your heart and even more would have done if your daughter had decided to end her life. With you out of the game, Sherlock would no longer have the most prolific hook of cases at Scotland Yard and moreover, finding himself the cause of your troubles, he would have suffered and his heart would have started to burn. Since with the dismantling of the portal your daughter has been saved, the second move has been to go back to giving to your son's friend to try to achieve the same result, passing, however, to a direct defamation of Sherlock not only in your eyes, but in the eyes of the world. Your son would have been labeled as homosexual and lover of a much older man who would have been accused of pedophilia >>.

<< Sherlock a pedophile… oh god, I can't believe it >> Greg shakes his head in disbelief, taking a sip of gin. << Even this plan has, however, been dismantled >>.

<< Yes and Moriarty is not happy at all. He is

also not happy with what Sherlock and the Spaniards are doing >> Mycroft says pleased. << Attacking you was a first step. The second would have been to put a woman between my brother and John. One of those women who is better not to have against >>.

<< A killer like your Anthea? >> he asks and although the speech is all too serious Greg can not help but put a note of malice in the voice, just to ease the tension. Mycroft barely rolls his eyes, annoyed by that new mention of his secretary.

<< An escort >> retorts seriously.

<< An escort? >> laughs Greg. << What would Sherlock do with an escort? >>.

<< Nothing, obviously. The woman, however, would have tried to seduce my brother, casting doubt on John and letting him believe that she had succeeded. This would have led the doctor to believe he was wrong about Sherlock and to get away from the idea of trying an approach >>.

Greg takes time to introject all the telenovela mixed with spy story information that Mycroft is giving him. He takes a sip of gin, trying to imagine what kind of woman could be the one who could have meant to have seduced Sherlock.

"A truly exceptional in her field," he thinks, since the consultant manages to appear all too well to remain completely indifferent to a beautiful woman with little dress and very helpful, intent on sending him unequivocal messages. Greg even thinks that Sherlock wouldn't understand the seducent approach, that he wouldn't be able to grasp the target of those provocations. He is still the man who was stunned at the idea that a furious woman could become unmanageable and dangerous, then he wondering how they could find them interesting.

<< Let me summarize >> Greg sighs. << So Moriarty would have removed me and consequently the possibility for Sherlock to have cases from Scotland Yard and then would have led John to step aside. Without my support, nor that of John ... >>.

<< Taking him to the decision to stage his suicide by keeping the doctor out of his plans would have been even easier >>.

Greg remains stunned, his eyes fixed on Mycroft who takes a third sip from his glass. He can't help but find all this absurd and crazy story.

<< So Moriarty's aim is still to isolate Sherlock to bring him to self-destruction and continue to hold you in his hand >>.

<< Exactly >> Mycroft nods.

<< Now, however, the cards are face up. Sherlock knows what Moriarty's plans are and will be able to act thanks to the Spaniards with the aim of destroying him and his organization >> Greg says, but he doesn't see Mycroft as enthusiastic about him. << Do you still believe this is not possible? >> he asks.

<< I am not saying that it is not >> Mycroft admits, giving the idea, however, of thinking it in a completely different way.

<< So what's wrong? >> Greg asks and is immediately caught by another intuition. << It is for Sherlock independence, isn't it? >> he exclaims and from Mycroft's reaction of amazement he realizes that he has hit the mark. << Mycroft, I can imagine how, given how much the friendships that your brother has undertaken have put him and you in trouble you have similar ideas about relationships. However, you cannot fear that this man will be eliminated because this would involve seeing your brother walking with his legs. You would be equally important to him even without this blackmail he knew nothing about and which you had to keep secret at all costs. I think you can learn other ways of showing affection that are not related to similar emotional blackmail >>.

Mycroft seems to take his words into consideration. Keep silent for a long moment and this time Greg doesn't feel uncomfortable. He witnesses Mycroft's slow relax and Greg would really like to be able to listen to his thoughts, find out how he reasons, touch that genius he feels so far from his possibilities.

<< It is not easy what you propose >> Mycroft says then coming out of his silence. << I realize that your observations are sensible and that ... yes, it is possible that I know of no other way to relate to Sherlock. There have always been secrets to keep. In our family Sherlock is the one who has always brought everything to light, both of himself and everything else. I can't stand in the light. I burn myself and I don't want Sherlock to burn himself >>.

<< There are sun creams, you know? >> Greg says, taking Mycroft's similitude on the fly to make a joke capable of tempering the atmosphere. << They are called friends, people you can count on, stereotypes to overcome, labels to put aside, spontaneity. I could continue with the list, but I think the message may already be clear like this >>.

<< Enough >> nods Mycroft, who is no longer skeptical now, but, indeed, reflects on Greg's words.

<< In these days more people have accused me of doing everything alone. Donovan, Molly, George ... they try to help me but I insist on keeping things for myself with the absurd belief of being able to save and protect them. As you can see we are not so different, me, you and your brother >>.

<< Of course we are >> Mycroft replies seriously. << You understand human nature while we ... I less than my brother, I admit it ... we get lost in the face of these things. It has always been this way, since we were children >>

<< I can not imagine that both you and Sherlock could have been >> Greg lets slip. Mycroft brings back on his lips that strange smile in which Greg sees a note of melancholy.

<< And yet it is so >> sighs, taking a sip of gin. << Sherlock has been a child, above all. A child who is quite alone and unable to accept this condition >>.

<< I don't see why he should have >>.

Mycroft smiles and looks away, taking it to an unspecified point of the precious carpet at their feet.

<< Up to ten years he was given a home education, as I had been done. He had had few occasions, therefore, to meet other children and when it was time to attend secondary schools, the best of the colleges was chosen, the same I attended. Sherlock was elated at the idea of leaving, but also frightened, although he would not admit it even under torture. I think that at the beginning he didn't notice the obvious difference between him and all the others and that he took seriously all the bad thing that that children said him. Then he began to understand, but instead of letting those little lower minds run without being touched by their words, he stubbornly wanted to make them friends. Once Sherlock understood that he had qualities out of the ordinary, he thought that showing his skill could be the best way to amaze the other and bring them closer to him. Instead, it only achieved the opposite effect >>.

Greg still sees this tactic and is moved by the idea of an unlikely little Sherlock who tries to please others by showing off, without understanding how deleterious this is.

<< From the simple isolation to which the youngest children subjected him, year after year its became insults, up to the beatings or to "spite", so to speak, unpleasant. He has lived through many bad situations, yet he has never lost that desire for ... 'friends' >> Mycroft says, passing his hand over his forehead.

Greg realizes that for Mycroft it must be the first time he talks about these things. They take a sip of gin at the same time and exchange a knowing smile when they realize it.

<< Then happened the thing that I feared most >> Mycroft says, darkening.

<< What? >> Greg asks curious, breaking his reflective silence.

<< He fell in love >> he replies with that drawn smile. << Oh my, maybe love is a big word. I think it was a trivial crush that ended badly, if not simple sexual attraction. I think it's normal in adolescence >>.

<< Yes I would say >> Greg chuckles, but immediately becomes serious when he realizes that Mycroft was not a joke. It is strange for Greg thinking that that intelligent man may be unaware of what are the usual stages of developmental age.

<< Obviously it ended badly >> Mycroft says emptying his glass, as if he were sure it could not happen otherwise. << I would say very badly >>.

<< What happened? >> Greg asks, not caring about the possibility of being indiscreet. Mycroft sighs, looking at the glass against the light.

<< Sherlock has never had too many problems with what is etiquette, manners and public opinion. Although the attacks of the people hurt him, over time he learned to disregard it. He had found an interesting and interested person, and that he was a man was a simple detail for him >>.

<< Well ... there is nothing wrong >> says Greg.

<< You think so, other people also think so. Sherlock classmates, however, didn't think so at the time. Not even the teachers. Our father then ... >> Mycroft looks up to heaven and an expression of contempt plows his face for a moment. << But the worst part is that his 'boyfriend' didn't even think so >>.

<< What? >> Greg amazed question.

<< When they were discovered, he accused Sherlock of having plagiarized and seduced and if even little is known about my brother, one can well imagine how much, if he wishes, he is capable of doing such a thing >>.

Greg is speechless. He can't imagine Sherlock attempting to seduce and take advantage of a naive heterosexual. It is not the type of man to take advantage of others.

<< Is that why you don't know whether to trust John? >> Greg asks, starting to understand something more about that whole story.

<< Our doctor has done nothing else, since the first moment they started to insinuate their possible relationship, that to reiterate his not being gay, not being Sherlock's partner, that they not are a couple >> says Mycroft irritably. << Now, however, he comes out as the devoted lover ready to formalize their situation. I have never understood the inconsistency of people nor I never tolerate it >>.

<< I think it's given by the fact that people can change their mind, Mycroft >> Greg specifies, capturing his attention. << It is not an easy thing what John did. It is one thing to have sex with men and women, I think, another to admit, first of all to himself and then to the rest of the world, that he is in love with a man. And your brother isn't a very easy guy to understand, since he hides what he feels so good that it looks like a cold machine. I think that the beauty of the human race that you struggle to understand lies precisely in the possibility of changing their mind, choices and decisions. It is also the only way to grow and I think that you Holmes don't really want to do it. Sherlock is starting thanks to John. I think you can start doing it too, Mycroft >>.

Greg realizes that it could hurt him in the great and immense pride that this man has, but he cares little. Greg sees Mycroft meditating on his words again and when he looks back at him there is a slight smile on his lips.

<< You're right >> Mycroft whispers, the voice broken by emotion. << I realize that I was stuck with what happened almost twenty years ago now. I have not defended my brother and still continue to feel guilty, because if he started taking drugs it was only because of that story that went wrong >>.

<< I don't think it was for that, Myc >> Greg says, trying to save the situation. << Maybe that was the drop that made the vase overflow, but, from what you told me the other times, there were several reasons that could lead Sherlock to self-destruction already before >> he says and seems to have caught the attention of Mycroft. << When I saw the cuts that Leslie made on his arms, when George told me how his father hates homosexuals so much that he would be able to kill his own son, I seemed to find myself in front of a young version of Sherlock. I experienced that impotence which I think may have been the same as you experienced. What can be done when a father is the worst enemy of a child? >>.

<< Eliminate him >> Mycroft says firmly.

<< I must admit that I thought so too. But then I decided to take Leslie to George, because he need friend at such a time. I'm here, Mycroft >> Greg says, placing emphasis on his words. << Tired, resigned, embroiled in family problems, but there are. Moriarty pushed me to be there >> he notes opening his arms. Mycroft shakes his head smiling.

<< Gregory Lestrade >> sighs. << Ready to do the impossible to save two brilliant idiots. But who will save you? >> asks Mycroft, leaning towards him.

<< Your brother >> he replies confidently. << I serve him alive and strong at Scotland Yard. No one else would listen to him, otherwise >> he concludes by winking.

They laugh at that joke, by shattering the tension linked to this whole story, to these truths that were not only those that Greg wanted to learn about. Others have joined it, older, more intimate.

<< I know you wonder how you can go on despite you are now aware of all these things, Greg >> Mycroft tells him capturing his attention. << I feel like telling you to enjoy life. I think it's the only thing to do. On balance, at any moment we can die, with or without a killer ready to shoot us >>.

<< Yeah >> the detective nods, standing up. << I'll try to fix Leslie and then I'll take another two days off. If I can keep Margaret good, I will offer the kids a weekend away >>.

<< Yorkshire is beautiful in this season >> Mycroft tells him getting up.

<< I will keep it in mind. Well then ... goodbye Mycroft >> he says, holding out hishand. Holmes looks at the hand perplexed for a moment and then grabs it firmly.

<< Goodbye, Greg >> he says and the detective perceives a strange hesitation in him. << Thank you for ... for listening to me and being left >> he whispers embarrassed, squeezing his hand a little stronger. << I told you the truth. All of this, this time >>.

<< Yes >> Greg nods. << You have my number, Myc. We are friends and friends sometimes call and maybe even see each other for a beer. Or a brandy >> he says shrugging.

<< Yes, I think that's what they do >> says Mycroft solemnly, without letting go of his hand. A strange tenderness takes hold of Greg. That hand that holds his, as if to prolong his stay there in that room. Greg does not know if it is for fear that something might happen to him once out or if for the newfound solitude that would follow his leaving. Maybe its are just fantasies that Greg are being made, driven by the idea that anyone who needs company and these Holmes know how to be so particular as to question the simplest things.

Slowly Mycrof's hand leaves his. They exchange another smile and yet another greeting. Greg closes the door behind him and finds himself in that heavy silence in this place.

<< On balance, at any time we can die, with or without a killer ready to shoot us >> said Mycroft. An overwhelming truth, which before, however, he was able to ignore like the rest of mankind. Now, however, it is so difficult for him to do so. It is difficult to swallow the idea of being able to abruptly take leave of life, just as Mycroft has struggled to free him from the grasp of his hand.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Greg puffs a cloud of smoke that is lost in a thousand turns climbing upwards. He observes them, hypnotized by their evolutions and realizes that the ceiling would need a coat of white. He knows that he will not waste time refreshing the walls of a house that does not feel in the least his and from which he could leave at any moment.

Greg has just returned from the renewed divorce decree, which has seen him win and get justice. However, this is not the only novelty. Several things have happened in the three months since the day Anthea saved Leslie's life. It began with a fistfight with the boy's father, who ended up in Scotland Yard. The man was accused of assaulting a public official. Then, there wasthe nervous breakdown of Leslie mother's , the consequent hospitalization and the boy again taken over by the social services, who agreed to leave him in foster care of Margaret until his mother recovered.

Greg's ex-wife, not at all happy with the situation, was forced to accept, to try to recover a minimum the relationship with her children. The real news with Margaret is that the gaze hard and devoid of any pity with which she looks at Greg no longer has any effect on him. Greg had told her clearly that he wanted to be able to see his children two days a week and on alternate weekends and that if she tried again to put spoke in the wheels, he would bring her 'absences' before the judge. Margaret had been visibly speechless in the face of his threats and had accepted all Greg conditions, aware of how Elisabeth's attempted suicide had occurred just when she was with her boyfriend, as well as, for the same reason, she had not been available, when George had a fight at school.

Satisfied, Greg is now enjoying the rest of the day off he asked for. He plans a dinner with his children, which will also include Leslie and Molly. He wanted to make things clear with her, explaining how much he was too confused to undertake something new and how he didn't want to risk hurting her. Greg expected to see her explode with anger, shout at him for teasing her and who knows what else, but instead Molly even thanked him for being honest and sincere. Greg realized that he had been dealing for too long with a woman who punctually attacked him, to the point of forgetting that women are not all like his ex-wife.

In these three months, Greg and Molly have had lunch together when possible. It has also happened that they have gone to dinner and that Greg was stay by her for the night. They are not together, but neither are they open to other possible relationship.

<< We enjoy what is there and the rest ... the rest will be seen >> Molly said, finding Greg perfectly in agreement.

Elisabeth certainly does not happy at the idea of knowing her father 'behave like boy', as she mumbled when Greg explained to them how things are between him and the pathologist. Greg would have spared this confession, but unfortunately Margaret in front of him is behaving like a perfect woman-fallen-in-an-unjust-trap-from-which-can't-get-out-but-who-accepts-with-courage. On the other hand, she often asks her children, directly or not, about the ex-husband's private life. When Greg asked her to stop, she listen to him, but every now and then Margaret asks question 'just to talk', she says, but that makes her children and him uncomfortable.

<< You have an infinite patience, Inspector >> Leslie whispered, looking at him with admiration, after yet another outburst of Elisabeth against her mother. Greg laughed bitterly at his observation, thinking how patience had always been missing in him. He has always run, in life, and chased time, finding himself every time not having enough.

Greg laughs even now, puffing the last puff of his cigarette, aware of being beautifully wasting time without any worries. He thought that the sword of Damocles represented by the hired assassins hired by Moriraty against him would lead him to run even more. Instead Greg slowed down.

He started to delegate more and more tasks to Donovan and to the other agents of his team, keeping to himself the bigger ones, who really need his presence and care. Without guilt, he took leave and vacation days, replying with a 'It is my right to take them' to every glance of his chief.

Sally has tried several times to get information on the situation in which 'that freak kicked you out' and Greg told her a completely invented version of the facts, which, he thinks, she does not believe in the least.

<< And what about the brother of the freak? >> she asked him, the last time she addressed the topic. << Because it can only be him behind all af this. Wherever there is one, there is no shortage of getting the other to cover the damage. And to you that guy has done such great damage that I am convinced his brother could not avoid intervening >>.

Sally will be a huge thorn in his side, but Greg can't say that she's not good at her job. In fact, she is right and Greg knows that if he can afford to get on vacation, delegate tasks and take life more slowly, he owes it to Mycroft's eye, always vigilant about him.

Greg sighs, feeling a strange weight on his chest. He has not seen the biggest of the Holmes since the last time Anthea took him to the Diogenes Club. Greg must admit that he is a little sorry. Yes, it is quite strange, but it is so. A pleasure was being created in being in mutual company.

In recent months Greg has repeatedly taken up Mycroft's business card, intending to call him to offer him a drink. He has always stopped, overcome by the fear that it could be not only inappropriate, but even dangerous. And then he thought it could have been embarrassing too. It wouldn't have been like a Friday night at the pub with John, because Mycroft Holmes is anything but a pub man. Already at the 'Red Lion', on the evening he had him brought there by Anthea, Mycroft clashed completely with the place where they were. They would have risked an evening of heavy silence, with the eyes of the people pointed at them, because someone like Mycroft, upright and starched, certainly does not go unnoticed. Especially for the contrast that they are capable of creating close to each other.

Since it was not possible to go out for a drink, and that in any other place where Mycroft could have been comfortable, Greg would not have found himself, the alternative would have been to meet at Mycroft's home. Needless to say, it was an idea to be discarded regardless. That brandy was enough for him on the evening of the Jackson corpses' discovery. If Greg ended up in his house, then on an evening when 'the service staff', as Mycroft had called him, had been present, Greg would have felt on the neck the breath of his late father to whisper to him that he was a sold in the service of the nobles in power.

In short, meeting Mycroft for a pleasant constructive chat is not as easy as it had seemed when Greg threw the proposal there. Greg shakes his head laughing at himself as he sits on the bed. The fact is that going to the pub alone is not fun at all. Indeed, it is somewhat sad. He tried to join the group of colleagues, as he did before he met John, but they end up talking about work there too and then there are faces that Greg sees every holy day.

So he stopped going alone. He stopped when he got a clear picture of how it should be viewed from outside. Curved over his pint of beer, with his tired face, the gray aura that seems to shout 'Come closer and I bite you!' In some moments and 'Leave me in my pain' in others. He inevitably ended up missing John and fiddling with the phone, wondering whether or not it was appropriate to send him even a greeting. He has always desisted from doing it. Nobody specified it to him, but it is not necessary tohave the intelligence of Holmes' to understand that his phone is under control and contacting John would lead into trouble his friend and the consultant. Even to himself, considering the things he would like to tell him. How did he not realize how important it is to be able to confide in someone? Greg has three months of burdens, changes, news, worries, doubts, trouble in the stomach and no one to talk to about it. He doesn't want to carry all his burdens in the moments he spends with Molly. Greg want that those moments remain pleasant and carefree, as if they were two kids with the mere thought of homework that even if they don't do them, they will find someone who will give its to them the next day at school.

Greg run his hand over his face to erase all these thoughts. He feels selfish enough to be cornered when John and Sherlock who knows what they'll be experiencing. In these three months many strange things have happened across Europe. Attacks in major cities, other explosions in London that led him to have to run knowing already who was behind and having to keep quiet. In fact, Greg decided to cut himself off from Moriarty and his plots. He decided to end the investigation into those who threatened Leslie and let the Jadescu case be strategically stolen from MI6.

<< Enjoy your life >> Mycroft had told him and Greg decided to do it. Carrying on his cases, those in which he knows how to be an excellent inspector, his family quarrels, his new relationships.

There are times when he regrets it. Moments in which he would like to leave for Spain, assuming that John and Sherlock are still there, remembering, only at the end of those daydreams, that, unlike the doctor and the consultant, he has two children to grow up. Two children and a boy, who, although he has now returned to his mother, spends more time with his son than at home.

Greg snort and jump out of bed. It's already two o'clock pm and in a couple of hours he'll have to pick up his children from school. He realizes he has the pantry empty and since he will house two incinerators disguised as teenagers, he better go to buy something.

Greg dresses quietly and goes down to the shop below the house. He puts something extra in the cart, so that he doesn't hear his daughter give him the usual lecture. Almost by chance he sees the employee in the department who never misses a chance to smile at him. He put aside the idea of asking for her number, although there is nothing binding with Molly. Evidently it is Greg who is now too old to embark on more free and carefree relationships.

"What example would I give my children?" he asks, returning, however, as always, the smile.

"A nice and good excuse, my friend," John replies in his head, making him snicker.

Yes, the doctor is right. Greg puts his children in the way so as not to admit that he is embarrassed in this tired and relaxed body that is struggling to show. He looks himself in the mirror, sighing heartily for the times gone by, those in which he could be proud of his prowess.

"As if these were the important things," continues John, who, like him, is no longer a boy and is in the same way on the wave of abdominal relaxation, yet with women there has never been a problem.

"And not even with men," Greg notes, still struggling to see him in a relationship with Sherlock that goes beyond professionalism and friendship.

<< Excuse me >>.

The light voice of the ward clerk takes Greg by surprise. She smiles at her start and hands him a piece of paper.

<< You have lost this >> she says.

Greg is dumbfounded. He takes the ticket and absently thanks. The girl goes back to her job and Greg thinks it could be a great way to converse. The detective in him, however, takes over and thinks it is appropriate to give priority to what he holds in his hand.

Unfold the sheet carefully, looking around several times in doing so.

At Serendipity in half an hour

Greg can't believe his eyes. He re-reads several times the short sentence written in a clear and clean handwriting. The first thought runs to Mycroft. A logical thought, since he proposed him to meet there the second time and this girl could be one of the many pawns Mycroft moved and put in his wake. What better observation post than the shop where he occasionally goes shopping right under his house?

However, another hypothesis comes to his mind. A hypothesis capable of freezing his blood. Moriarty comes back to him, breaking all the barriers he has erected in recent months to try to move forward, despite everything. What if Mycroft is not the bearer of this message? If it were a trap by the consultant criminal?

<< I'm not the only one to whom your execution has been assigned >> so Jadescu had told him and this girl could work not for Holmes but for the Napoleon of the crime.

Greg brings his hand to the holster he holds under his jacket and turns his gaze to the girl, who smiles at him with a wink. He goes to the cash register, occasionally turning to her, who always looks at him and smiles at him. Pay the groceries, bring it into the house and for a moment think it would be better if he stayed. Indeed, that he moved completely.

"And what good is it," he thinks heartbroken, aware of how that man has the ability to find him everywhere like Sauron's eye.

Greg takes courage and goes back to the street to get in the car and head to that fetid hotel. He reaches him in less than the established time and the old man at the reception greets him with the usual nod. He does not even tell Greg in which room he is expected, convinced that he already knows.

"Too bad that I don't know anything" he thinks and he doesn't even think about asking for clarification. The small elevator, with that vague smell of ammonia rising from the stained carpet, proceeds slowly towards the top floor. The corridor is deserted and disturbing. Greg has the feeling that his footsteps echo even too loudly on the carpet, preventing him from making himself as quiet as possible.

The door to the same room where he met Mycroft last time, has just opened with a dry 'clank' of the lock and remains ajar. Greg's heart loses a beat, freezing it. It takes a while for Greg to convince his legs to go ahead and cover those few meters that are missing. He brings his hand under his jacket and squeezes the pistol grip, ready to extract it and fire, if necessary.

He decides, however, that it is better to act in advance and opens the door with a kick, pointing the weapon at the man standing in front of him. The twilight of the room draws his dark shape. The man wears jeans on tennis shoes, a leather jacket closed to the throat and what looks like a hat with a visor on his head. The light scent of its cologne spreads through the air.

<< I would say that you can put it away, Inspector >> he says in a calm voice, just raising his hands more as a sign of command than surrender.

<< You? >> Greg exclaims still pointing the weapon at him. << Jesus, you made me take a hit! >> insists so surprised and frightened that he remains still and impaled in front of the door, with his right arm outstretched and his hand tight around the weapon.

<< How about entering? >> Mycroft advises him, grasping the weapon with his pale hand, moving it away from himself. Tapered fingers rise to meet Greg's hand who finally relaxes by lowering the weapon. He lets himself be dragged into the room and collapses to sit on the chair strategically placed near the entrance.

<< I could have killed you >> he says, massaging his tense and painful right arm.

<< No, you wouldn't have done it >> says Mycroft confidently.

<< But how the hell are you dressed? >> he asks, finally looking at him in the weak light of a bedside lamp.

<< I thought it was appropriate not to notice >> he says looking absently in the mirror. Vanesio like his brother, must be a genetic condition. In fact, his eyes stand out because Greg is not used to seeing him in this casual style. Mycroft could also disguise himself as Santa Claus, but he would not lose that haughty and proud demeanor that would make him recognizable anyway.

Greg begins to laugh at that improbable image of the ice man dressed in red with a fake beard. Mycroft watches him with that arched eyebrow that speaks volumes about what he is thinking of him.

<< Ok, ok, I'll stop >> he says, trying to catch his breath. << Can you explain why all this? >>.

<< I wanted to see you >> Mycroft replies, making a small break capable of taking Greg's breath away. << There are some news >> he adds.

<< What kind of news? >> asks him worried.

<< Of the good ones >> he answers, leaning on the window sill with dirty glass. << As you will have heard from the news and how you have dealt with it, there have been months of tension throughout Europe >>.

<< I imagined there were Sherlock's investigations and Moriarty's nervousness behind him >> Greg nods and with the same gesture Mycroft confirms his suspicions. << If the news is good, then it means that they have defeated him! >> Greg exclaims enthusiastically jumping to his feet. << No, wait >> he thinks about it, by taking a step back. << You wouldn't have needed all this if there wasn't more danger >> he deduces and Mycroft smiles at him, satisfied with his acumen.

<< The fight is still long, Gregory >> sighs visibly pained by what he's saying. << Sherlock and the Spaniards, however, have significantly reduced Moriarty power and freed you and Mrs. Hudson from his aims. All those who waited for the order to kill you have been eliminated >>.

<< All? >> Greg asks incredulously.

<< All >> Mycroft repeats. << And no one else will be hired in his place. They made scorched earth around him >>.

The euphoria slowly makes its way into Greg. It must break down the walls of suspicion, of mistrust, of unbelief, before being able to give way to the joy of exploding. And when this happens it is a hysterical laugh, an exult as the most avid fan of the decisive goal.

<< All? >> Greg repeats, this time between laughter, and Mycroft nods happy to have finally given him good news.

Greg throws his arms around Mycroft's neck, even before he realizes it. He squeezes him tightly, to the point of hearing him mumble a low 'no breath', which, for a moment, Greg ignores, before loosening his hold. He won't let him go, though. Greg puts his head against Mycroft's shoulder and indulges in another laugh and then in a liberating cry and more laughter, all on that shoulder, covered by an unusual black leather jacket. Only when he begins to calm down does, Greg realize that he is in turn embraced by Mycroft. With his hand he combs his short hair, which has become even whiter, as if to make public the upheaval that he has tried to camouflage so well.

<< This whole story will end, right? >> Greg asks him, just turning to rest his forehead against Mycroft's shoulder.

<< Before I didn't believe it. Now ... now I'm optimistic >> replies Mycrof. Greg chuckles and raises his head to meet his gaze.

<< I thought you were realistic >> he says and sees him laughing at his joke. << Soon, then, will I be able to invite you to have a drink without fear of putting us both in danger just for sending you a message? >>.

<< John will be back soon and you can invite him >> Mycroft replies, looking away. He slowly moves away from his embrace. << Sherlock has estimated that the winners will return by the end of the month >>.

<< This is beautiful >> says Greg, who reluctantly sees him go further. << We said we were friends >>.

<< And that's why I'm here >>.

<< So why did you say I could invite John. I'm not using you to fill the void left by a friend who is currently absent, Mycroft >> Gre tells him, offended.

<< This I know >> he agrees, showing that drawn smile. << I think, however, that his company can be more pleasant than mine >>.

<< I wish I could be the one to judge it, if you don't mind >> he replies. Mycroft doesn't seem to understand the reason for his tone. << I thought for a long time whether to write to you or not to propose to see us. If I had wanted to fill even a shitty evening in the pub I would have had who to do it with, and sometimes I did it, so don't think I'm a fallback, please >>.

<< Okay ... well >> says the confused ice man. << I think, however, that at the moment, it is not the case >>.

<< You wouldn't dress like that, otherwise >> observes Greg, noting how much easier it is to talk to him now that Mycroft is wearing informal clothes.

<< Correct >> confirm. << As for the after ... I don't know. I don't even know if it makes sense to make speeches of this kind >>.

<< Why? >>.

<< Because I ... I don't want to look devaluating, but I'm ... foolish >> Mycroft says with a funny grimace of disapproval. << We are in our forties and we are discussing like two teenagers >> he says, rolling his eyes.

<< And what's wrong? >> Greg asks. << In these three months since the last time we met, I lost time, entrusted responsibility to others, I started a pseudo relationship that I would not know how to define with a woman who "cuts corpses", as my daughter says and I demanded to have what is rightfully mine. I enjoyed life in the end as you advised me. I don't see why I can't even discuss friendship as the most intellectual and politically engaged teenager >>.

<< ... politically engaged? >> confused question Mycroft.

<< In the sense that I am dealing with a politician >>.

<< It doesn't make any sense >> Mycroft retorts exasperated.

<< Find me something that has it in all this? >> laughs Greg amused. << This is where the game is, Mycroft! Okay, we're over forty years old, but why can't we be teenagers too. Not only teenagers but also >> he serious specification. << Look how you got dressed >> he continues, indicating him. << How can you expect me to talk to you seriously if you are dressed like this? >> asks him, more and more confused.

<< I thought it wasn't the dress that made the monk >> Mycroft replies anyway.

<< Indeed >> increase the dose, however, Greg. << I'm sure that here too >>, he says grabbing him by the arms, << there is a teenager who is pressing to go out. Jesus, Mycroft, you will have had only once in your life the desire to send everything and everyone to fuckoff and do something incredibly stupid! >>.

<< No >> heretorts decided, shaking his head.

<< No? >> asks incredulous Greg, who is even more stunned by his repeating the gesture of denial. << Oh >> he adds. << I'm sorry >>.

<< You don't miss what you don't know >> retorts Mycroft, bending the elbows to move Greg's hands away. << And, in any case, Molly Hooper is an excellent pathologist, your daughter should have more respect >> he says, changing the subject and bringing it, not surprisingly, to the woman he is attending.

<< It is not disrespect but jealousy, Mycroft >> specifies him.

<< The father's jealous daughter >> Mycroft thinks, thoughtfully. << Yes, a classic >> he answer, archiving the thing as uninteresting as too trivial.

<< By the way, thank you for helping me with the review of the sentence and for Leslie >> Greg says.

<< Not at all. As I said from the beginning, my help is always valid for you, Gregory. I would say that I can go now, I have accomplished my task >>.

<< Well, I hope I do not have to find myself afraid of risking my life and then discover to be your invitation next time >> Greg says, following him with his eyes as Mycroft goes to the door.

<< I hope so too >> he retorts, placing his hand on the door knob. << Continue to enjoy life, Gregory >> he says with a sincere smile.

Greg would like to tell him to wait, not to leave so early, to stay there with him, to talk a little more. Instead he remains silent and sees him leave the room.

"You should have done it," John tells him in his head, but Greg chases him away with a quick gesture from the head.

<< I am not like you >> he whispers and his voice echoes in the room.

“And he's not like Sherlock. So?" the doctor continues undaunted.

Greg has no answer to that question. Just that feeling of perhaps missing an opportunity. When he moved his forehead away from Mycroft's shoulder to meet his gaze. Before making that joke to which he then replied by starting to free himself from his embrace. To break that beautiful moment.

<< I would have broken him into a thousand pieces >> Greg says, going back to sit.

"Or maybe you would have been the one to break?" suggests John. "You should have left him the choice."

<< Bastard >> Greg chuckles, annoyed by the way the doctor's voice in his head turns his own words against him. It can't blame him, though. It could have been just a kiss. Something that Mycroft would then accuse him of or could accept as a simple gesture of affection. An affection ... 'different' from what Greg usually receives from his children, friends and Molly.

<< It is that perhaps, John, I am simply envious of what you and Sherlock have >> Greg admits to the dim light of the room. << Because I feel it is something deep, beautiful and that will last over time. You have the strength and courage to make it last and I would really like to experience something like this >>.

"And why shouldn't it happen to you, Greg?" Sherlock's voice asks him with surprise. "With my cumbersome presence I slowly destroyed what your safety was and I gave you the opportunity to learn to look at things from another perspective. Why shouldn't you be able to take me as an example once again and build something more suitable for you now? ”.

<< Yes, why? >> asks himself standing up.

Sherlock has conquered the man he loves and is about to destroy the enemy who had sworn to burn his heart.

Greg has made a clear border with his ex-wife, getting justice. He is learning to combine work and family in order to raise his children. He is living a relationship without having too many problems and maintaining a transparency of intent, thoughts and sensations that he did not believe possible with a woman. He admitted to himself that he is afraid, that he is desperate, depressed, that he has a problem with alcohol and cigarettes and that he has to take care of himself seriously. He learned about many things. And there are already many who feel more suitable for themselves.

"It's just that I insist on not seeing them, forgetting them, not recognizing them," he realizes.

Greg approaches the door and puts his hand on the knob, taking a deep breath. He wants to get out of this bleak and dark room as if it were his life before he discovered the existence of the Fenix portal. He wants to go out in this stronger light, capable of allowing him to look inside himself. He wants to walk with his head held high again, as he did before the storms of his life began. He wants to fight, as Sherlock has shown him it is possible to do, to achieve himself and get what he wants.

Greg turn the knob and let the light come in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!  
> I've done it. Sorry for the terrible delay, but I have had weeks full of things….  
> But here I am to conclude this long. This is a final open, possibilist and with many valid interpretations that I will leave to you.  
> I hope you enjoy it and that it was a good read  
> Once again I thank you for reading this ff of mine, for having followed it here with patience and a big and warm thank you to those who have had the pleasure of leaving me a kudous.  
> It is possible that we will see each other again, even if I have to fix some things because I absolutely don't want to reduce myself to not knowing when to be able to update.  
> See you soon, then  
> Pat


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